#UNTIL it turned February at midnight

[spoookytay]

NEW WELCOME HOME OC’S JUST DROPPED❕❕❕

Vincent Valentine and Katherine DeLight!

I’ll color her later, I have no clue on what her color palette will be LOL

“I DO WHAT YOU NAME?” I forgot I flipped the canvas

[romeoandjulietyouwish]

money troubles

Januarys in Tulsa were a different kind of hell. You wouldn’t think it would get that cold in Oklahoma, but Darry was surprised every year when December rolled around. His brothers hoarded blankets, stacking them as high as they could go. January and February were even worse.

It was his first winter without his parents, without his father’s salary. Heat was expensive, more so since their windows were thin and the doors couldn’t shut properly. Darry held out as long as possible before turning the heating on.

Pony grumbled a little, wrapping up in blankets and wearing Darry’s old football sweatshirts over every outfit. 

One night in December, Darry was half asleep when his bedroom door opened and his brothers padded their way over to his bed. He barely had enough time to wake up before they crawled on top of him and settled down. Before he could ask what was wrong, he felt Pony’s cold toes being pressed to his shin.

“Y’all are freezing,” Darry murmured as Soda snuggled into his side, forcing his cold nose against Darry’s shoulder. He sighed and rubbed their backs, “I’ll turn on the heat tomorrow.” With his Christmas bonus, they would be fine with the added expense. 

January was when things got hard. 

It was midnight and Darry sat alone at the dining table. When finances were tight, he always did the bookkeeping after the boys went to bed. He didn’t need them worrying, that was his job. And based on his calculations, they’d have to cut back somewhere. It was heat or food. 

Darry’s head fell into his hands. What the hell was he supposed to do? He never wished for his parents more than he did at that moment. A tear dripped onto the notebook paper in front of him. 

He could eat less, leave more for everyone else. That would save some money at least. But not nearly enough. Pony had track, he needed to be eating his fill. And if they didn’t eat with them, he didn’t know where half the gang would get their next meal. 

But if he turned off the heat, well he honestly didn’t know what would happen. He knew he couldn’t stand to see his brothers shivering in the cold, he couldn’t watch them bundle up and pretend nothing was wrong.

What the hell was he supposed to do?

He didn’t hear the front door opening, or the footfalls in the entryway. He didn’t know that Two-Bit was inside until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Darry jumped, raising his hands defensively.

Two-Bit smirked and raised his hands, “Woah there, cowboy.” Then he saw the tears in Darry’s eyes. “What’s goin’ on? Is everyone okay?”

“Everyone’s fine.” Darry swallowed thickly and ran a hand over his face, “Ain’t nothing for you to worry about. The couch is open if you want to crash.”

Two-Bit’s eyes fell to the page in front of Darry and his eyes widened. Too late, Darry moved to cover it. Two had already seen. “Shit, I didn’t know things were that bad.”

“It’s none of your business,” Darry said shortly. He closed the notebook and slid it under a newspaper. 

He tried to stand up, but Two put a hand on his shoulder and forced him to stay seated. Two-Bit sat down in Pony’s usual chair. He was quiet for a long moment, leg jogging under him. Then he nodded to himself and started digging in his pockets.

A moment later, he put a handful of crumpled bills and a stack of coins in front of Darry. Based on his quick math, it was almost twenty five dollars.

“I’m not takin’ your money.” Darry leaned back as though physical distance could make the money go away. “Where did you even get this much money?”

Two-Bit shrugged, “Texas Hold ‘Em, odd jobs for a guy my ma knows. It’s not even that much money.” It was. It would be enough for food and heat and extra for next month.

“I can’t take this,” Darry pushed it towards his friend. He and Two-Bit had been pals for as long as he could remember, they practically grew up together. Two-Bit was a good guy, Darry trusted him with his family more than anyone else. He knew that Two could use this money for his mom or his sister. Why on earth would he give it to Darry?

“You need it. It’s not even that much.” Two-Bit sighed and for the first time in a long time, Darry didn’t smell alcohol on him. “Look, you help me and the boys, you give us food and…” He nodded his head towards the bedrooms, “I know Johnny is sleeping in the spare room. You forced him to so he wouldn’t sleep outside.” Darry looked down, it was true. “Exactly. So take the goddamn money and keep your kid brothers warm. And the rest of us yahoos that traipse through your door.”

Darry stared at Two-Bit, saying nothing. Two-Bit rolled his eyes, “It should not be this hard to convince a guy to take money.” 

“I don’t-”

“Darry.” Two-Bit and Darry turned around to see Soda standing in the doorway. His hair was all a mess and he looked like he was still half asleep. “What’s going on?”

Darry threw on a smile, “A stray just wandered through the door.” He slapped Two-Bit on the shoulder. “Figured I’d let him stay the night and then go from there. Ya think we should keep him?”

Soda chuckled, “Just until morning.” He yawned. “Y’all need to talk quieter. Pony and Johnny are fast asleep.”

“Will do,” Darry told him. “Goodnight, Pepsi.” Soda just yawned again and waved before plodding back to bed. Darry’s eyes stayed at where he was for a long moment. Then he turned back to his friend. 

Soda and Pony deserved a home that was warm and safe and with enough food for them and all their friends. They needed this money. He could suffer the shame of accepting money from a friend just this once. 

So he grit his teeth and said, “I don’t want to be makin’ a habit of this.”

Two-Bit grinned, “Wouldn’t dream of it, superman.” 

He squeezed Darry’s shoulder, “I’m going to sleep on the couch, tell Johnny that I get the bed next time.” Darry snorted and shook his head, that was never going to happen.

Darry looked at the pile of money for a long moment. His hands shook ever so slightly as he tucked it into the coffee can on top of the fridge. 

When he turned back, Soda was standing in the doorway again, watching him. He seemed more awake now. They just looked at each other for a long moment.

Soda crossed the room in two strides and hugged Darry. Just from that, Soda knew Darry had heard, or at least seen his exchange with Two-Bit. He knew that Soda worried about him, probably far too much. To Soda, Darry accepting help was nothing short of a miracle. 

“I love you,” Soda said softly. “You’re doing a really good job.”

Darry’s throat became thick with tears and he held Soda just a little tighter. “Thank you, honey.” Since their parents died, he’d been adrift, trying desperately to keep everything together. He kissed Soda’s head, “I love you too.” Darry pulled back and pushed Soda’s hair out of his face. Without all that grease, Soda’s hair was constantly covering his eyes. “Go back to bed.”

Soda huffed, “What if I don’t wanna?”

Darry couldn’t help the laugh that bust from his chest, “You’re soundin’ an awful lot like Ponyboy.”

“And he’s my favorite brother, so what?” Soda said sarcastically, earning him a thawk on the head from Darry. A few months ago, that would have hurt, even if it was a joke. Now he knew his brother was being a knucklehead, delirious in his sleep-addled mind. 

“Go to bed, short stack,” Darry said, giving Soda a light shove towards the hallway. “I’ll be right behind you.”

Soda smirked. He gave Darry another quick squeeze before darting back towards his bed. Darry followed him a few minutes later. 

Unable to help himself, he ducked his head into the spare room where Johnny and Pony had fallen asleep. The two of them were curled towards each other like parentheses, Pony’s thumb still holding place in his book.

With a fond smile, he leaned over the bed and pulled the book from his brother’s hands. He slipped a bookmark in and set it to the side table. Both the boys were covered in a thick blanket. Darry adjusted it around their shoulders.

One of Johnny’s eyes squinted open, “What?”

Just like he would one of his brothers, Darry touched his head affectionately, “Just me, buddy. Go back to sleep.” His heart warmed at the trust Johnny displayed as he closed his eyes again and snuggled back down. That was why he needed the money, Johnny needed a safe place to stay.

Darry closed the bedroom door and then moved to check on Soda. His idiot brother was still awake, not even pretending to sleep. Darry leaned into the door frame, “Golly, you’d think you were six, not sixteen.”

Soda stuck his tongue out, only proving Darry’s point. “I’m goin’ to sleep. Wanted to make sure you didn’t try to pull an all-nighter.”

“Goodnight, Soda,” Darry said meaningfully. 

“Night.” Soda snuggled down into bed with a content look on his face. Darry smiled and finally headed back to his bedroom. 

[xuchiya]

cyber sex [k. hongjoong]

₊˚.༄ || filth valentines m.list || hongjoong || seonghwa || yunho || yeosang || san || mingi || wooyoung || jongho || ₊˚.༄

₊˚.༄ I wanna get freaky on camera I love when we get freaky on camera ₊˚.༄

it was those times you earned something after working hard; not those times where you had a long day or done a lot on your to-do list, more than what you wrote down.

after a long time at your office, long hand striking on 11 indicating close to midnight. you toss your bag on your bed, unclamping your hair free, shaking to loosen the tangled hair as you settle down on your computer chair.

"looks like february filth fest is starting ..." you smirk as you scroll down your feed to see posts of different users. you giggle, looking at the video of lip syncing yet sensual, touching their bare parts. then suddenly a thought of your boyfriend who was across the globe for his runaway party.

your smirk got bigger as you stood up rushing towards your wardrobe to pull out his favorite lingerie that he bought on your birthday.

after placing them, you apply a little makeup to emphasize your lips and eyes until you open the camera of your laptop, setting your phone to the side to record your reflection from the laptop.

(adding a little red light in the background.)

the music starts and so do your hands, mouthing those lyrics that you were meaning to tell them to hongjoong for a while. your fingers hook themselves on the strap of your bra; slowly dropping them.

your cleavage was very prominent when you squished them with your arms; give it a little shake, hands on them before mouthing the words, "i wanna get freaky on camera .." then you remove your bra, exposing your breast on the camera.

"i love when we get freaky on camera ..." you grope your boobs, while looking at the camera as if looking straight at hongjoong. running your hands around your chest then letting them crawl up on your neck. after feeling satisfied with your performance, you sent the video to him.

hongjoong almost drop his phone at the event; adding to the fact his heart soar when you casually jiggle your chest just like that. his eyes following every move of your hands, your chest glistening with your makeup highlights. his pants were once comfortable to be in, free and soft but now, it was as if those thoughts were just mere words form in his head when he saw you getting sensual.

"i see you have been ... busy, baby." you bit your lip, one hand running down your folds while the other pinching your erected nipples, position in front of your laptop camera. facetime with hongjoong.

you whimper, "i miss you that's why ..." arousal leaking out of you as hongjoong position his phone, lowered just above his hips; his whole upper body can still be seen. his dick can be seen pressing uncomfortably inside his dress pants.

"yeah? you do? spread those legs baby." you place both of your legs each on the armrest of your chair; exposing yourself more on the camera. you can hear hongjoong groaning, "fuck i can't wait to get home. and taste that pussy."

"oh hongjoong~" your fingers rub shamelessly on your sensitive buds, rapidly caressing them. hongjoong palm his hard; jerking them on his pants before undoing his belt then his zipper.

when hongjoong knew he can't hide his erection; mostly on the thousands of paparazzi, he has to go. and now he's back inside his hotel room, aroused by your intimacy.

"spread those lips for me." two fingers spread your folds open, hearing honjoong hiss made you aroused and turn on even more. he loves it when you do that, all stretching out just for him.

honjoong had his dick in his hand jerking it as he watches you messes yourself with the dildo you bought for yourself. he had love to see you fall apart on the silicon, yet he knew how you go dumb underneath him when it's his dick ramming inside.

"faster~ yeah that's it." you swiftly entered the dildo in and out of your hole, squelching sounds every time it comes back in. your hips jerking everytime the tip hits your pelvis, making your eyes rolled at the back of your head in pleasure; thinking that the one hitting those spot where hongjoong.

hongjoong groans, breath hitching in his throat when he hears your cries— whimpers he know so much. his throat erupted in dark chuckles, “are you gonna cum? But i want to see you squirt. Squirt those juices on my dick, come on baby.”

  Your body jerks at the amount of pleasure, yelping as you arch your back; hand continuing to abuse your pussy-hole with the dildo. You felt that familiar coil in your stomach, making you bit your lip, “oh hongjoong~ i’m cumming fuck fuck!”

  As expected in hongjoong, he stare as your cunt spurt out juices, a long string of “fuck” left your lips as you used the dildo to grind on your pulsing pussy. your body relaxes after a minute before you chuckle, “did i do great?”

  hongjoong nodded, still had his hard on his palm, your tongue glaze on those veiny cock of his. He may be towered by his members but that monster underneath those clothes says otherwise.

    “Yes baby but i haven’ cum yet … can you help me?” you nodded, sitting properly this time. You know how to get him done, he loves when you ruin and ride the dildo like how you ruin and ride him. 

   Placing the dildo flat on the seat, you turn around so your back is exposed to him as you ride the dildo. Sitting on your knees, you sheathed yourself down, gripping the backrest tightly; you were still sensitive from your first orgasm.

  You slowly bounce yourself on the dildo, turning your head over your shoulders, “so good hongjoong~fucking me this good.” hongjoong’s threw back as his hand speed up, mouth agape. Broken whimpers left his lips when he can feel the coil knotting.

he loves when you talk dirty whenever you were riding him. it always had his head on the clouds.

"fuck baby you're so hot riding that--shit i'm gonna cum baby!" hongjoong panted, eyes watching as you pick up your pace.

   His last straw was when he saw you jerk up, pulling out the dildo then another gush of your juices spurts out of your pussy, again “fuck baby~!” Hot loads of his cum covered his hand including his dress pants but he didn’t give one fuck about it. His chest rose watching you clean up, a smirk on his lips, “i’ll see you tomorrow baby.”

   You blew him a kiss not before throwing your lingerie on the camera before ending the call.

taglist: @vantediary

[bellysoupset]

Vince sick with the flu at Wendy's birthday

Vince knew he was bound to catch the bug after being so terribly exposed, he had just been counting on the fact he had gotten the stomach flu back in the end of January and hoping this meant he was immune.

No such luck.

Not only he had definitely caught the bug, judging by how upset and gurgly his belly felt, but he had caught it on Wendy's birthday. He wanted to cry.

"Are you alright?" His father asked, looking up from the dishes he was doing when Vince groaned, tugging at the roots of his hair.

"I think I caught the stomach bug that's going around the school," he answered and Giuseppe frowned, drying his hands on the dishcloth and walking closer.

His palm was cold against Vince's forehead, all soft thanks to age, "you're a little warm, piccolino," he hadn't called Vin that since his son had outgrown him.

"That's just great," Vince sighed, leaning slightly on his dad's touch. He wanted nothing more than to go upstairs and crawl up into his childhood bed, let his family fuss over him, but instead he had to hit the road. There was no way he was going to miss Wen's birthday.

They had already talked the night before, video called at midnight so he could wish her happy birthday, and texted in the morning, Wendy sending excited updates about everything.

Her parents had sent her a huge breakfast basket with flowers and she had gotten a bunch of chocolate from patients, which Wendy was over the moon about as it was her first time getting gits from patients.

She was going to have lunch with Bella, Jonah, Barbie and Megan and then the party was going to be at night, at a rooftop and Vince knew for a fact that Jon had gotten fireworks for her as a surprise.

"I have to get going," Vin forced himself to pull back and stand up. As soon as he stood up, he felt all sorts of woozy, so Vin grabbed the wall behind him and breathed through his mouth until the slight vertigo faded away.

Giuseppe's silver eyebrows were up, blue eyes scanning him, "you're planning on driving like this? No, you're not."

"Babbo, I can't not go," Vince sighed, "I'm gonna drive slow, I promise. And text you as soon as I get there."

His father didn't look one bit pleased, "at least take some medicine before you go..." he mumbled, looking nervous about the prospect.

Although the old man looked fearful, he did let Vin go, without telling Ma about the fact he was sick, something Vince was very grateful for. There was no way his mother was going to be this cool about him getting in the motorcycle when feeling that woozy.

By the time Vince entered the big city, he was freezing. It was only partially due to the fever, it was the last day of February, so it wasn't exactly warm to begin with.

He had the key to Wen's apartment and she, thankfully, still wasn't home, so Vince headed straight to the bathroom. His reflection was a sight, his skin had gone from its usual light olive tone straight into green territory, all pale and with dark circles around his eyes. His lips were devoid of color and his hair had flattened down around his head, clinging to his clammy skin.

"Looking handsome," Vince grumbled, planting his hands on the sink and taking a steadying breath as his stomach gurgled uncomfortably. The nausea was taking its sweet pace building and currently he was covered in goosebumps, his mouth feeling sticky and sweet.

Vin stumbled into the shower area and turned up the hot water, hoping to wash away the look of sickness. He had very little energy, so he just stood under the stream, letting the water do most of the work.

He washed his hair and then gagged when the scent of conditioner hit his nose, making him rush to wash it off. It was to no avail, and Vince leaned over the drain, retching softly until a thin stream of watery puke came up.

It brought no relief whatsoever, but his stomach's muscles relaxed, leaving him still just as nauseated and unable to barf. Vince groaned, washing away the evidence and his face all over again.

Once he stepped out of the bathroom, with Wen's large lilac towel wrapped around his waist, Vince opened a smile as he saw Wen had left an outfit picked out on top of the bed.

He put on the boxers and the social pants and was sitting on the edge of the bed, struggling to tie his social shoes since the position squeezed his tummy, when Wendy opened the bedroom door.

"Oh hi..." she sounded all breathless and Vince didn't have to force a smile. His girlfriend stood at the doorway of her bedroom, with her hair in rollers and a pink robe.

"Hi birthday girl," Vince grinned, "c'mere-" he got up to kiss her and Wendy's whole face turned pink as she promptly wrapped her arms around his neck, getting on her tippy toes.

They stumbled back inside the bedroom and Vince bit down a groan as he felt Wendy climb his lap, still kissing him fiercely. He moved his face, planting a kiss on her neck and squeezing her on a hug.

"I missed you," Vince whispered, planting a kiss on her shoulder, pushing her robe out of the way, "I missed you so much."

Wendy let out a pleased sigh, pulling back and running her fingers through his humid hair, "I missed you too," she pressed her forehead to his, "I almost wish we could just stay in bed."

Vince snorted at that, patting her ass so she'd get off his lap, "no, you don't, you'd never miss your own party."

She blushed as he read her so easily, then climbed off of him, "I'm just gonna take a quick shower, can't get the hair wet. Are you almost done?"

Almost, he just really needed to throw up first, Vince thought, but kept his happy smile on.

"Yeah, pretty much. Take your time, though," he kissed her temple and swatted her ass, "I'm gonna go get your gift."

"My gift?" Wendy's voice went up at least two notes as she smiled and Vince rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, your gift," he steered her to the bathroom, "c'mon, you don't wanna be late."

He had left Wendy's gift in his backpack and Vince went to the living room to retrieve it, while buttoning up his shirt. She had picked a deep red button up, her favorite color on him.

Vince sat on the couch as he heard the shower running, allowing his mask to slip and wrapping an arm around his stomach. Even though he had left his belt quite lose and not yet tucked in the shirt, he already felt like he was being squeezed by it all.

His intestines were gurgling something fierce and when Vin pressed on his warm, sensitive belly, he felt a burp sneak up his throat. Airy and with no sound, but turning wet at the end. Vin snapped his mouth shut, swallowing back the urge to gag.

He felt another shudder run up his spine and Vince pressed his eyes closed, valiantly fighting a cramp- Then he heard the bathroom door open and immediately pulled himself together, pushing everything out of his mind and getting up.

Wendy was already in her shapewear, pulling out a deep magenta dress from her closet. She had removed her hair from the rollers and they fell around her heart shaped face like old Hollywood waves.

"You look great," Vince smiled, leaning against the bedroom's doorway, "you look gorgeous."

Wendy opened a big smile, then she caught a glimpse of the simple black box in his hands and raised her eyebrows, "what is it?"

"Turn around," Vince stepped closer, holding the large square box. He was quite nervous about it, actually. It hadn't been cheap, but it was nowhere near what a girl like her was used to. He knew Wendy was the Harry Winston and Cartier sort, so he was really nervous about buying her jewelry.

Vince put the necklace around her neck and planted a kiss on top of her head as she looked at her reflection in the closet mirror, "what do you think?"

It was a simple white gold necklace, with a flower pendant made of four rubies and the center a topaz.

Wendy didn't say a thing, leaning in to inspect it and Vince cringed, feeling a whole new layer of nausea wash over him.

"I know it's no Tiffany's or whatever, but-"

"I love it," she interrupted him, glaring at him in the mirror, "it's stunning."

Vince's cheeks burned and he fidgeted uncomfortably, as Wendy smoothed the necklace against her collarbones and opened a pleased smile.

"I really love it, Vin," she turned around to hug him by the waist and tilted her head back, opening a blinding smile, "thank you."

"You're not just saying that? Because its from a local jewelry shop, so you can definitely exchang-"

"I love it," she shook her head, squeezing him, "and it matches my dress."

Vince let out a scoff, biting down a burp as Wendy's head pressed to his upset stomach. He gulped down, keeping a hand in the middle of her naked back and breathing through the queasiness.

There was no way he was going to make it through the night without puking, Vin thought, as Wendy moved in his arms and planted a kiss to his tummy, pulling back.

"I'm just gonna do my make up and we can go," she said happily, putting on her heels and Vince forced a smile.

"Alright, I'm gonna wait in the living room."

The party was in the same rooftop Vince remembered being for Jonah's birthday, when Wendy had gotten sick due to a migraine. It was ironic she had picked it, given how horrible he was feeling.

Vince was practically wincing as Wendy intertwined their fingers together and pulled him as she checked with the staff everything was alright.

He was bouncing a leg nervously up and down and Wen let out a chuckle as she noticed that, "it's just our friends," she misinterpreted his nervousness, grabbing a champagne flute and pushing it in his hands, "you have nothing to be nervous about."

Vince offered her a strained smile, but that wasn't exactly true. Wendy was a social butterfly and he knew for a fact it was not a party just for Jonah, Luke, Bell and Leo. Half the hospital would be there, as well as all the girls she knew from yoga and from other courses. Barbie, Megan, whom Vince had met before, but they still made him nervous. Other people he had no idea how Wendy got acquainted with.

He wanted to die as the place started to fill up and his head continued to swim. Vince couldn't pay attention to anything that was being said, but thankfully his participation in small talk was all but optional.

He was feeling clammy all over as the little canapes started to circulate on top of trays.

Wendy squeezed his arm, "are you hungry?" she tilted her head to look at him and Vin promptly shook his head, almost stumbling back as it made the room spin.

Just the mere thought of putting anything in his stomach made more sickness splash up and he gulped down, "No-" his voice came out all hoarse and Vince cleared his throat, "no, I'm just warm. I'm gonna go outside for some air, okay?"

Wendy pouted slightly, "are you alright...?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Vince squeezed her hand in his, "talk with your friends, I'm just gonna get some air and I'll be back," he promised and she opened a bright smile, turning around and squealing as she caught sight of Jonah entering the room.

Vince turned around and bolted.

It was not lost on him that once upon a time he had found Wendy hunched over the same rail. He pressed his tummy to the iron rail and forced up a sick burp, but nothing came up with it.

Vince groaned, squeezing the metal and feeling like he was about to collapse. His legs were shaking and he couldn't stop swallowing down, his mouth pooling with saliva.

Another burp snuck up on him and Vin whimpered, feeling his eyes sting. He hated this, he wanted to be having fun with Wendy, not almost ruining her party.

A hand came to rest on his back and Vince shuddered, knowing who it was without even looking back, "fucking kill me, Luke."

"What's wrong?" Luke's voice was impossibly soft and Vince tipped to the side, leaning against his best friend's chest. He was freezing, he wanted all warmth he could get.

"Stomach flu..." Vince groaned as his stomach flipped again, "gonna be sick..."

"Okay, think you can make it inside? To the bathroom?" Luke squeezed his nape, rolling his thumb in a comforting manner. Vin took in a deep breath.

"Don't-" he gulped down as a gag interrupted him, "don't want Wendy to see me-"

"Buddy, the chances of her seeing you here are way higher," Luke squeezed him a little tighter, "lean on me, okay? We're gonna speed walk."

"M'kay," Vince slumped almost completely and heard Lucas let out a little huff at his weight, but he didn't let go. He was so dizzy, he didn't actually see a thing as they moved back inside the restaurant area, only heard the noise escalate and then get low once more, as Luke pushed him inside the bathroom.

Vince stumbled, bracing against the sink and Lucas let out a sigh, "c'mere," he wrapped an arm around Vin's chest, steering him towards the toilet and Vince immediately fell to his knees, leaning over the bowl and panting.

His stomach hurt with how much it was churning and finally he let out a weak gag and felt everything he had eaten since morning rush up his throat.

Vince groaned as the sheer amount seemed to suffocate him, coughing and groaning as it stung his nose. He spat in the bowl, blindly reaching to flush it, but his arms were too shaky and that almost caused his chin to hit the porcelain, wasn't it for Luke wrapping an arm around his chest.

"I got you, I got you," Lucas reassured him, before flushing the toilet, "done?"

"Nu-uh," Vince gagged, spitting once again. He had never felt so nauseous in his life, what the hell was this bug?

"Jesus, dude..." Luke groaned when Vince let out another gurgly burp, which quickly morphed into a violent heave and even more puke rushed up and splattered in the bowl.

Lucas moved so he was crouching practically next to him, planting a hand on Vince's forehead and keeping him from taking a dive in the toilet as the heaves continued to rock him. He cringed as he could feel the crazy heat under his palm, it was shocking Vince had been able to play off as healthy for so long with a fever like this.

"Okay, okay, big breath," Luke rubbed his back as Vin let out a whimper and swayed on the spot, bracing against the stall wall and causing the entire thich plastic structure that separated the cubicles to tremble.

"Fuck," Vince breathed out, squeezing his eyes and massaging his chest. His hands were trembling and tears had run down his cheek, he also looked terribly pale, "this isn't a stomach bug, it's some plague."

"It looks like it, yeah," Lucas flushed the toilet again, grabbing a bunch of toilet paper and passing it to Vince, "you good?"

"For now..." Vince wiped his mouth, blowing his nose, "but my stomach is still churning and I feel like I'm gonna shit my pants."

Luke wrinkled his nose in distaste, getting up from the floor, "you need to go home-"

"I can't go to Wendy's, it's her birthday," Vince whined, "I'm not gonna ruin her night-"

"No, you're coming to my place," Luke rolled his eyes, "can you just sit there and not die? I'm gonna let Bell know-"

"Oh god, Bella-" Vince groaned, curling up as much as he could in the small space and Lucas let out a sigh.

"Just don't die, alright? I'll see if she can go home with Wen and you come with me- Don't die," then he turned around and ran out of the bathroom.

Vince sighed, leaning his head back against the hard plastic and trying to find any strength to get up and wash his face. He hated himself for going anywhere close Daniels last week.

There was a gurgle through his stomach and Vince squeezed his belly, breaking in cold sweat. He let out a sickly little burp, getting on all fours and struggling force himself up, swaying so much he nearly smashed his head against the stall wall.

Vince fell down on the toilet, tugging on his social pants and clumsily reaching for the door and locking it, before managing to push down his pants just in time for the runs to hit him.

He wrapped both arms around his tummy, pressing his eyes closed and sniffling pitifully. The cramps were killing him and to make matters worse he was starting to feel nauseous all over again, the curled up position forcing up sickly little burps.

Vince gulped down, breathing slowly through his mouth as the woozy sensation only seemed to get worse. Then there was a knock on the door and his head snapped up, colorful little spots dancing on the corner of his sight.

"Occupied!"

"Vin, it's me," Luke said and he could've cried. In fact, judging by the way his throat was hurting and he could feel his eyes burning, he was pretty sure he was.

"Gimme- Give me a minute..." he groaned, "just wait."

"Okay, yeah, no problem," Lucas said hurriedly and Vince assumed he probably could hear the pleading in his voice, since he didn't fight him.

Vince wiped the cold sweat from his brow once again, taking slow measured breaths as he cleaned up and then got out of the stall, stumbling to the sink in order to wash his hands and his face.

He looked dreadful. Vince made a little pray that Wendy was across the rooftop and didn't get a glimpse at him, because he looked pretty close to a corpse.

He dried the cold water from his face, before all but collapsing against the bathroom's main door, pressing his forehead to it, "Luke."

"Yeah?" Lucas' voice was very clear, as if he was glued to the door and Vince thanked his stars for that.

"I think I'm gonna faint..." his lips felt numb, this wasn't good. The second the weak words made out of his mouth, the door opened. Just in time, because Vince's knees buckled and Luca caught him by the armpits, letting out a grunt as he almost went down with Vin.

"Christ, Vin-" Luke's hand pushed his hair back, patting his cheek, "hey man, I need you to help me here or I'm gonna drag your ass to the hospital."

Vince shook his head, angrily forcing his eyes open and trying to think through the fog, "Wendy-"

He jumped as there was a loud noise, followed by squeals, just outside the private hallway that led to the bathrooms. Luke stiffened his hold around him, only to let out a nervous chuckle.

"It's Jon's fireworks. We should go."

"Uhmm," Vince nodded, grabbing on Luke's arm, "I'm gonna hurl on you."

"I know," Lucas forced him up, voice all strained, "but outside of here, deal?"

"Deal," Vince almost chuckled, pressing his feverish forehead to Luke's shoulder and allowing him to rush them out of the fancy restaurant.

[hwan-g]

DAYS OF CANDY. seo changbin

pair. bouncer! changbin x fem! reader (+ seungmin, chan, minho) | genre. slight gang activity, bad boy, infatuation at first sight, angst, smut | warnings. profanity, brief violence, depictions of toxic/abusive behavior, mentions of murder, mental struggle, age gap (unrelated to plot), unprotected sex, dirty talk, pet names, generally flawed characters | word count. 14.9k | in the same universe as route 66 and midnight diner but can be read as standalone.

synopsis. a lot of things happened in motel rooms, even more happened between him and girls like you, girls that ride on his bike and have him by the balls.

It was an ordinary night, when you made the wrong choice.

You’d heard of the reputation Route 66 had built for itself, knew how hard it was to get past the two infamous bouncers at the door, and of that one incident on the 16th of February, the one that made it on the news and forced the club to shut down for a whole month. The owner, Bang Chan, refused to give any statements, and the entire ordeal was soon forgotten, swept under the rug by people that refuse to acknowledge the existence of gang activity in their city.

You had a high school friend that worked there as a bartender, someone you’d been quite close to once, but drifted apart from when you first got together with your boyfriend. Minho still called you sometimes—he hated texts, hated how impersonal they were, and would rather hear your voice instead—just to see how you were doing, if you still worked at the same retail store you started at right after graduation, and that he hopes you’re doing okay, that he’s only a phone call away if you ever need him, and you know you can always just come visit me, right?

You knew that, wished you could say it was easy for you to do that, but that was merely denial talking. You worked a full time job that took up most of your time, and when you weren’t selling clothes, you were washing and folding them, you were consumed by a man that refused to let you take one step away from him, an apartment that felt more like a prison than a refuge. There had been a social life once, but that seemed lifetimes ago now, nothing but a distant dream. There had also been a time where your boyfriend was your whole world, and you’d love for nothing else but to be in his presence always, stuck to him like glue, but that had also withered away somewhere, and died. 

Freedom seemed like paradise now. Being alone, elsewhere—you prayed for it every night before going to bed, even in your sleep. It was detrimental that something gave, and soon. You wanted to call Minho again, wanted to ask how he was doing for once, and not the other way around. No more rushed interactions, or seething looks; hands as fists, skin on skin, anger as teeth—

There was a birthday party at Route, your boyfriend’s brother was turning twenty-eight, and had invited seemingly every person he ever came across. Of course, that wouldn’t run on 66; all who entered that door had to be handpicked especially by the two men guarding it, and that was no easy task. You’d been once, a quick drink with a coworker on a regular Thursday, which turned out to be a confessional session with Minho until two in the morning, at which point he declared you entirely too drunk to return home and left his shift early to take you to his house and let you sleep it off in his bed.

Lee Minho was a good friend. He cared for you like no other man had ever done in your life, and it was not an obvious thing for him. You had to earn his respect, his time; not everyone could do it, certainly not many were willing to, and even fewer actually succeeded. It was effortless with you because you actually tried, you took the extra mile, and you never demanded anything of him. You just were, orbiting around him, once a sun to his planet, now an old survival instinct. He had lost many family members over the years; you’d held his hand as his parents passed away, held him when he cried, stayed on the phone on graduation day as he told you he wouldn’t show up, and could you pick up his diploma for him?

Many times you wondered where it all went, how it came to this. He’d been your closest friend for so many years, but as you stare at your boyfriend already picking a fight with the brown-haired man you’d come to know as Kim Seungmin, you realize that you let him go—let it all go—for a stupid, stupid boy that had sucked the fucking life out of you, and could just not stop doing it to anyone he ever interacted with. You’d been so naive, so incredibly dumb. 

It made sense now, what you really had to do. But how you did it—that was your first mistake. You thought you were destined for a mundane life, an ordinary existence. No one could’ve prepared you for this.

“Say, should I call the cops on you, or fuck you up myself?” An extremely muscled man appeared through the underground bar’s entrance, black locks falling over his forehead, obscuring dark eyes. “I’ll be nice and make it your call.” 

He locked eyes with you for a single moment, before his hard face turned its attention back to your boyfriend currently gripping your arm so tight it felt like all blood circulation had stopped. His strong arms flexed, the skin veiny, rock solid in the white button up, and his chest looked ready to pop out of that black vest with the business tie, all formal, all currently stirring something incredibly dark within you.

If you had a voice, you’d beg him to make that call, plead with him for a chance at freedom. But you didn’t, you couldn’t possibly find it at that moment, as the other man flashed his gun discreetly, a deadly warning to your boyfriend’s ominous words. You had to give it to him, no matter how sick to your stomach it made you—he had ways to hurt people, ways to make them disappear. He liked hurting you the most, his precious girl. Sometimes in ways that couldn’t be visible to the naked eye.

“Time’s ticking, fuckface,” the seemingly older guy threatened, getting closer to his target’s face. You whimpered, looking down to hide your discomfort, but not before you noticed him studying the movement. “Let her go.”

“Fuck out of my face, before you regret it,” your boyfriend snarled back, and shook you forward, yet refusing to release you. “You go inside, find my brother and tell him these two assholes are giving me trouble.”

Brown-haired boy laughed as the other one smirked. “Are we giving him trouble, Seungmin?”

“I don’t believe so, Changbin.” But both guns were glinting in the night sky, their intentions clear.

Changbin stood with both arms crossed in front of him, menacing, terrifying. “We just wanna be your friend, pretty boy. Let the girl go, so we can chat and braid our hair, yeah?”

If he’d only loosen his grip, then you could tug and pull away. Your brain’s autopilot had been turned on since before you left the apartment, there were responses but no reactions, and you were pretty sure both men could tell you’d been through this many times before. You always made it very apparent, in hopes someone would finally help you, someone would dare. It wouldn’t always be like this, but you had to make it happen. The man’s attention on you whispered of many things, but freedom—freedom was the first one promised.

“You’re the funny one, aren’t you?”

The smirk widened, a hand resting on the metal against his rib. “Perhaps we should let the pretty thing next to you decide that one. Last warning.”

You saw the exact moment you vanished from your boyfriend’s mind, his touch leaving you at once, murder written across his face as he got close to the bouncer, a punch ready to land, the violence you were so accustomed to coming to a climax, finally, a firework taking flight, a missile bomb launching—

The sound of clicking, multiple gasps from behind you, and then you saw it. Smooth black underneath his jaw, Changbin’s finger on the trigger, head tilted, smile wicked, sinister, his friend mirroring him, standing a breath away, on the ready—they were going to shoot, they were going to do it, they’ve done it before, you can smell it off of them, the gunpowder, the crime, the sin. You almost reach out, but for what? You wouldn’t stop it, you didn’t care to. You’d let it happen and slip past his caving body to find Minho, to announce you were free, to drink yourself oblivious and swear you’d never again become prey for men to feast on.

The end, so close.

“Walk away before this gets ugly,” Changbin stated, contained anger and ice cold amusement both evident in his tone. “We turned away your entire entourage, there’s nothing for you here.”

“Johnny, maybe you should go—”

The malicious eyes were on you again, once beautiful, holding so much in them, and you remember yourself wishing you could drown in all of it, for as long as possible, until eternity ceased. You loved this man once, with all your heart, but he was nothing short of a stranger to you now, and if he had died just moments prior, the thought of being glad for it scared you to your fucking core.

What sort of person had you become next to him? No more.

“I should go?” he asked incredulously, and his lips curled. “Fuck it, stay here for all I fucking care. No one will ever come back for you, (Y/N),” he spat, pointing a single finger at you, already walking backwards, away from you, forever. “Remember that.”

Both bouncers moved in front of you, hiding you from your, now, ex boyfriend’s view once and for all. You hadn’t even realized how much you were shaking until Changbin reached a hand out to take your fingers in his, his touch warm, the rings he wore cool against your skin, a juxtaposition. The red neon signs above your head made you dizzy, the weight of what had just happened pushing on your shoulders, tearing you from the inside. Three years of your life, given to a man that had left you as quick as a bullet.

Perhaps you should’ve killed him yourself. Now the moment’s wasted, there will be other victims, more misery—and your stuff, all of your things were in that apartment. Who was going to retrieve them, where were you supposed to go?

Was this a bad idea? If you pushed past them, maybe you could yell out, try to reason…until you figured how crazy that sounded. Still, a sick part of you wasn’t ready to be abandoned by him, and could not stand the thought of being alone. Tears blurred your vision, and you squeezed Changbin’s hand one time, eager for direction.

“Is Minho working tonight?” you question quietly, the music from inside the bar slipping through the cracks of the steel door.

Seungmin had gone back to his post, profiling people and opening the door for them once he received their money. Changbin had pulled you to the side so gently you’d barely noticed you’d been moved. The metal was gone, and its owner was searching to meet your gaze, to ask if you were okay, but to no avail. Your eyes were glued on his boots, the leather of it, the shoelaces tying up to black pants that fit snugly around toned thighs. He was handsome, a faint thought that shouldn’t have crossed your mind at a time like this, but you couldn’t look past it, either. He smelled of amber and he’d just popped something in his mouth.

You look up just in time to make out the red of his lollipop. Raspberry. It clicked against his teeth as he sucked on it; you were so near to him the stick of it was grazing your lips. You faltered, and took a step back. He let you, but he never once let go of your hand.

“He’s not, sweet thing,” he replied softly, giving you a curve of a smile. Draped in red, he appeared dreamlike. “No one’s gonna hurt you, yeah? You’re safe with me.”

You nod, but you can barely hold his gaze. He chuckles, sensing your struggle. Your throat is dry, your heart in shambles; you could really use a drink or two, before you made another terrible mistake. You needed to call Minho, let him know of your situation. Perhaps he would understand, and let you stay at his place until you figured what to do with your belongings, and the lease on your name. You couldn’t risk going yourself, but Changbin, maybe, if you could find the guts to ask something like that of him—

It didn’t feel right to involve your other friends, the ones not related to weapons and abuse, the ones that will never know what has happened to you, what will always remain part of your story, no matter if you’ve escaped for the time being or forever. Johnny was the vengeful type, and he certainly would not let it go. Anger had made a monster out of him, and everyone would pay for your insubordination. He didn’t take well to change, certainly not when it involved you. It was simply a matter of time.

You took a deep breath, your chest rising and falling deeply. The bouncer in front of you rested his hands on your arms, rubbing soothingly there, waiting for you to speak, to tell him what to do.

“I have to go, I need to—I’ll—thank you,” you stumble through your words, turning to leave, hysteria bubbling in your chest, anxiety for what would become of you. “How could I ever repay what you did for me…”

“You can start with your name.”

Your eyes snapped to meet his. His mouth was moving, tongue rolling the lollipop around, and his hands dropped from your skin, as if he sensed how overwhelmed you felt. You were grateful for that small action, though a part of you wanted it, no, needed it, back. It felt grounding, real, like if it wasn’t there you’d float away somehow, incorporeal, a ghost. 

Before you can even think about it, your fingers reach for his forearm, and his warmth wraps around your bones at once, the skin there, so human. Changbin seems alarmed, but remains patient with you, understanding. Your mouth is dry, but you try to swallow anyway, and his weight shifts, his gaze never drops, Seungmin is calling him—

“Yes, Kim?” he answers, but the connection is not tethered.

“The boss wants you in the back. Hey, beautiful, can I see an I.D—”

“He can wait,” he grunts, and that’s it. He’s back in your world, the one where your hand on him is the only thing keeping him alive, your eyes staring up at him the only way he’d prefer to die.

Fuck him, he’s the one in trouble, isn’t he?

“Sure, he can,” you distantly hear the brown-haired man mutter to himself sarcastically, after the two girls entered through the door. “He’s widely known for his patience.”

It brings you back to Earth. “You should go,” you encourage, smiling awkwardly, fingers unwrapping themselves hesitantly.

Changbin shakes his head, takes the stick out of his mouth. He faintly smells of red syrup. “I really fucking shouldn’t. Where are you gonna go? Do you have a place to stay?”

“I’ll figure it out, you honestly don’t have to worry about me, I can—” But you could do what? There was no way for you to finish that sentence.

He straightens his back, and it somehow makes him taller, more formidable. There’s something unreadable swimming in his expression, something between anger and compassion, and it knots your stomach, because the last thing you want is for someone to feel sorry for you. This is why no one knew, why you never said anything—you hated the pity, the charity that would come out of something like this.

A victim. You weren’t one.

“You’re with me. I’d be the last person that saw you tonight, and if something were to happen to you, I wouldn’t be able—” he stops, sighs. He looks back to where Seungmin is standing, and brings those thunder eyes back to haunt you. “Just. Please, answer the question. Do you have a place to stay?”

It’s not what you expected. This man cares, he’s like Minho. But unlike him, there’s an edge to Changbin that you’ve never seen on anyone else, like he’d tear himself apart to help you, do whatever was physically possible to make sure you’re safe. It was kindness, pure and unfiltered, and a sense of principle that no one has ever shown you before. It felt warm, like him. So, you accepted.

“(Y/N),” you blurted out, moved by his persistence. He blinks. “My name is (Y/N).”

His smile is a thousand watts. “Nice to meet you, sweetheart.”

“She’s Minho’s ‘special girl,’” Seungmin declares, eavesdropping. “All I know about you has been against my will, darling, know that.”

Changbin smirks, and lights up, digging his elbow in the bouncer’s rib. “He means he’s charmed,” he says apologetically, rubbing his neck.

A smile breaks out on your face, and you wonder how is it possible to feel at home with two people you’ve practically just met? Your heart was beating right out of your chest at the thought of spending more time with them. So much so that you nearly forgot all about the bad.

It still lurked though, waiting for the right moment. For both of you.

“Another one, is it?” Bang Chan commented teasingly, counting money against the counter. “Are we collecting them or what?”

You blushed, as Changbin sprung out to wrestle his boss in your defense. Route 66’s owner laughed a throaty sound, and surrendered, coughing and fixing his black button up. You noticed his square jaw, the sharp gaze—the girl staring at him from up on the stage. There were questions, but for some reason you had no voice to ask them.

“It’s nothing like that, Bang,” the bouncer next to you stated, rather embarrassed. “The party of twenty that we sent off? She came with one of them.”

To that, Chan perked up. There was another girl working the bar, smaller and much quieter looking than the first one, and she smiled at you when she caught your eye. You smiled back politely, and turned back to the man talking to you. The place was dark, drenched in neon, but you could still make out his face, it was so sculpted.

“You’re Minho’s friend, yeah?”

You stuttered, shy. “Y-Yes. I thought he’d be here today.”

Chan measured you. “Personal day,” he explained simply, but his fingers were still moving across the bills. “Why’d you bring her to me?” he addresses Changbin without bothering to properly look his way.

“She has nowhere to go. He was violent with her.”

You heard the hum all the way where you stood. It sounded disinterested, and for a moment you felt yourself questioning what you were exactly doing there, with a bunch of strangers that didn’t owe you anything, but then you remember the black-haired man’s words, and you remain in your place, uncomfortable.

“Take her to 103,” the owner declared. “I’ll contact Lee, see if he answers. The room has been paid for the weekend, so rest, okay? If you need anything, tell Lover Boy here. I’m sure he'll oblige.”

Changbin audibly groaned, slapping his palm over his face. “Can you shut the fuck up?”

“Just saying, baby.”

“I’m going through the back door,” he ignored the pet name, grabbing you by the wrist. “Let Min know.”

Chan was already tuning out, the girl you saw earlier now whispering to his ear. She moved like a cat to you. Or a snake. It felt mystical to watch her.

“Oh, I’m sure he’s already aware,” was his last comment before you rounded the corner to the storage room.

There were two bikes parked in the back. Both a shiny black, though one was longer, vintage. The alley was dark, the bushes along the line of the club’s property well-kept. Your arms unconsciously folded over your upper body.

Changbin mounted the aged motorcycle, turning the ignition switch, the angry roar of the engine and bright lights making you flinch. The chain hanging from his pants dangled, the metallic sound drawing your attention, before your eyes traveled to his biceps, displayed in full force with the way he hunched over the handlebars. You desperately tried to hide it, but your breath was stuck in your throat, your heart jumping at the view.

He was ridiculously attractive, and this wasn’t like that. He’d made it clear, and you— you’d just got out of a messed up relationship. You didn’t need this. And yet—

“Come here, will you? I promise I won't bite.”

Of all things, this was bad in a completely different, yet just as torturous way. You still did it anyway; you passed your leg over the seat, you put your arms around his muscled body, leaning into him, and if your nose caught his burning scent or the berry flavor of his candy you told your silly heart to suck it up and turned your cheek. But ignoring it was futile—there was this intense sizzling between you, and it’d be a flat out lie to say he didn’t feel it, because at every red light, every all-way stop and traffic junction he squirmed and cleared his throat in a manner men only do when they’re rock hard and in need of relief.

“We’re not too far now,” he spoke after a while, taking a left turn and readjusting your hold with one of his hands. His long fingers were cold but sure in their touch. “You okay?” His head turned to show his profile, the soft, dark curls bouncing in the wind, and what was the question again?

“It’s a nice night,” you comment, not able to form any other coherent sentence.

He nods, and takes off again, this time speeding down the road, making passes on cars, taking yellow’s, and never once looking back after that. The sky was pitch black, not a star in the city, and most businesses’ had closed for the day, leaving gas stations and fast food places all on their own, though even those were sparse and far between wherever you were going. There had been a moment, though small, where you doubted his intentions, doubted these people and their words. But these people were Minho’s people, and there was never any doubt about him.

You really wished you had taken your phone with you. It seemed like a good thing to have in a situation like this. The thought of where it is, or rather whom it’s with, made your skin crawl, and your mind wander. What was Johnny doing right now? Had he left the apartment already?

Staring at a spot on Changbin’s vest, you realized he’d just entered a parking lot, a motel named ‘Starlight’ coming into focus, its teal color and neon letters hard to miss. He killed the engine and waited for you to get off, before demounting himself. You lingered a bit as he adjusted the stand of the bike, and cracked his neck. Thin black ink ran down the side of it, lightning or veins, you couldn’t quite make it out from your distance, but before you could analyze it further, he motioned for you to follow him, extending a hand and recognizing what he’s doing.

Your eyes met as his jaw clenched, and his arm fell. It felt like intuition or will, and he was rejecting it all. You should’ve felt glad he was repressing himself, but all you felt instead was empty. You shouldn’t want this, you kept repeating to yourself. He’s just being nice. He’s just being kind. And it was those things, but it was something else, something that was neither your fault nor his; attraction, maybe, or just the simple fact that he felt like the calm sea, enveloping you with the promise of peace. And freedom—he set you free. Call it naivety, and perhaps it was.

You didn’t care.

That was your second mistake.

“It’s not much, but Bang’s family has owned this place for forty years,” he explained to you as he greeted the older man at the reception desk, and got the key that opened ‘Room 103.’

You climbed the rusty metal staircase to the first floor, and followed him closely as he passed the rooms by, all the way until the end of the hall. The breeze was colder up there, but you could spot a tiny star or two. You were far, so much farther that you’ve been in years, and it felt good. Nothing for miles, no one close to you to know where you were, to look for you. No one that cared enough, anyway.

“You won’t kill me, right?” you ask almost absentmindedly, the sky too mysterious, too beautiful to look away.

Changbin unlocked the door and chuckled to himself, forcing his head not to turn your way.

“Not if you behave,” he couldn’t help the suggestive tone, though. “I’m kidding, sweetheart,” he softened up and quickly added when he heard your breath catching in your throat.

He stepped aside to let you walk in the room you’ll be spending the night in, and hesitated to trail behind you. A lot of things happened in motel rooms, even more happened between him and girls like you, girls that ride on his bike and have him by the balls. His dick was so hard it was painful to walk, and there was no excuse for it. He was awful, but there was no intention to go through with anything. He’d bid you goodnight, leave his phone number on the nightstand, and walk out. That’s how it should happen, and that’s how it will happen. You’d been through enough, it was clear to see. 

Changbin was not going to force his own bullshit life on you.

“In case of anything you can call me immediately. I’ll answer,” he told you as you sat on the bed and fingered the phone’s cable. “If you want me to go get your stuff, say the word,” he added, sensing your uneasiness.

Your chest expanded and your lips curved, but the smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I don’t want to put you in any more trouble, Changbin. This is enough. Thank you.”

The bouncer shook his head, furrowing his brows in refutation. “You haven’t put me through anything, sweet thing. Let me do that for you, yeah? I’ve dealt with many assholes in my life.”

“Don’t you have to go home? It’s late, I wouldn’t want to keep you—”

“Don’t have one,” he cut you off, and smiled faintly to relieve the tension his words carried. “Tell me where yours is, I want to make tonight easier for you.”

You couldn’t help the pregnant pause after that. Your mind ran, the simple fact that he’d told you something so personal like it was nothing festering into a million different thoughts, all ending with the same question mark. Where did he live, then? At the club? Not possible, right? Then, where? Would he want to spend the night there, with you? You had nothing, even this much was borrowed, but perhaps he could share it with you. If it was allowed. You knew it was risky, and that you couldn’t ignore this for long.

It’d be wiser if he left now and came later when you were asleep. You had to remind yourself this was temporary. If you were to engage in these feelings, they’d take you somewhere you’d have to deal with for way longer than a couple of nights, and you weren’t sure that was a good thing.

He looked like he was thinking the same thing.

The tattoo on his neck was definitely lightning striking, the black of it creeping before cracking down on him, and disappearing underneath his collar—underneath. You wanted to see, run your fingers on it, figure out where it reached. It wasn’t normal, and it certainly wasn’t sane.

But you wanted to, nevertheless. It was a hungry want, an inevitable want. If it didn’t happen right now, it would happen someday, soon, as soon as you both stopped fighting it, a primal instinct. It was because of how he looked and what he’d done for you, how freedom would now seem like a raspberry lollipop and a smooth gun.

“I need to go,” he said, his eyes flitting from yours, body turning away. “I need to go before I do something I regret.”

His pleading tone tugged at you. You put your tongue between your teeth so you wouldn’t respond. He’ll go bring you your clothes and your phone, and he’s going to leave you alone. You ran it over three times in your mind, before it sounded convincing enough to go with.

“You can stay,” you manage to get out, and then you realize it doesn’t sound right. “After, I mean. If there’s nowhere else to go.”

Despite his best intentions, Changbin can’t help but melt at your words. Bless your heart, sweet thing. I was right to help you.

“I’ve had my fair share of Starlight nights, sweetheart. I’m sure you need your privacy,” he leaned by the dresser to write something on the pad by the TV. “You don’t gotta worry about me, yeah?”

It still didn’t feel right with you. “Thank you can’t possibly be enough.”

With a hand opening the door wider, he gave you one last smile and a quick wink, before popping the lollipop back in his mouth.

“It’s enough for me. I’ll be right back.”

Babel is playing on TV, a half forgotten movie about people on vacation, but you can’t even bring yourself to focus on the actors’ faces, much less their words. One line sticks out to you then, ‘Why did we come here?’ but before the weight of it registers, you swing the door wide open, throwing yourself out into the cold night.

The roaring sound that drove you away from your old life. That unique black paint on an expensive, vintage motorcycle you couldn’t stop thinking about. You’d never been on a bike before, had never trusted anyone enough to get near one. It had surprised you; how easily you trusted Changbin, how blindly you followed him into fields of darkness. He could’ve turned out dangerous—he could’ve threatened you. Any sane person would’ve kept their distance, assessed the situation, and gone home. A boring, uneventful life is a life nonetheless. There were bad parts, sure; decisions that were made that could’ve been prevented, people that took advantage of your kindness, but overall—it was fine, it was manageable.

Somehow, you refused to acknowledge the abuse, even then. You protected the part of you that wanted to deny, that wanted to go home and forget about it all. Johnny told you, though, he did—“no one’s coming for you, no one.” Meaning you’re unwanted, meaning you never mattered anyway, silly girl, and what are you talking about? You’ve no home, no returning.

The black-haired man carried a duffel bag across his torso, keys jingling between his fingers. You’d been smothering in that strange room, inked paper on the nightstand, fingers pressing on the digits again, and again, and again. Dialing, then putting the receiver down, a game with no winner. A phone call away, he’d said, but it’d been three tortuous hours and he’d been nowhere to be found. You were stranded in a motel outside of town, no way to escape. Your mind ran, and it ran fast, so to see him walking towards you, to witness him staying true to his word, when no other man had been able to, when nothing was for certain, and fear crept like an ocean wave—it shocked you; shook you, hand over mouth, feet pulling you back to the confines of that space he left you in, door left ajar, only so your lungs could fill with sharp wind, with bright stars peeking their way through.

Changbin was hurt. You saw that, too. He will come to you, face swollen, and you’ll deny, deny, deny.

Because that could’ve been you. Because it would’ve been bad for real, and you will never, ever admit that to yourself. Because that game did have winners and losers, and you were so obviously losing, every.single.fucking.time.

Your love had been a bad love. You don’t blame this man for condemning you.

“Sweet girl?” His voice is rough.

He pushes the thing separating you, and there it is—a cut above his brow, an angry gash on his cheek that will bruise later—you knew this, you did—blood on his white sleeve, scratched up knuckles. You’ve learned to look for the injuries first, but when did that start? Since when have you been covering, hiding, alert, so very sensitive to your own body, to reds and blues and purples?

What the fuck is wrong with you?

The only thing you can say— “I’m so sorry,” head low, quivering.

Changbin finds you on the bed, a reprimanded child, and stares. He looks an ugly sight, that much he knows, but it had nothing to do with you, everything to do with the motherfucker that got to call you his. That apartment had been a mess, beer cans everywhere, smashed picture frames and mirrors—it hadn’t come easy, losing you, it was clear to see, but your ex boyfriend wouldn’t give you up without a fight, and it was far from over.

Still, the bouncer pushed through the door frame, and searched for your belongings. Landed a good punch or two, missed a few, knocked out some teeth. He’d dealt with monsters before, and he wishes he could truly tell you what he’d meant, why he said it. Not much scared him anymore, nothing stopped him. If you have nothing to live for, you go all in. Every moment matters, yet doesn’t at all. An avalanche, a landslide. A suicide mission.

Changbin had seen war, and had returned from it. Retrieving a phone was childsplay to him.

He nears you, drops the bag with your stuff right next to you on the mattress. He crouches in front of you, and despite himself—he grabs your hands. How devastating it is—to know you’re going to lose your heart. How thrilling. He searches for the pretty eyes that looked at him back at the bar. He wants to talk to the girl he freed, the girl that offered what was offered to her. 

The selfless one.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” he consoles you tenderly. “Did a good deed for a girl that’s worth it. No tears, yeah?” Your tongue comes out to wet your petal lips, and you meet his gaze. He smiles at you, masking the wince it elicits out of him. He wants to keep smiling for you, nevermind the ache, nevermind the effort.

“You should see the other guy.”

You laugh at that, still half crying, and Changbin can’t help it, doesn’t want to. He wipes the tears away, cradles your face in his big hand. You’re so warm under his touch, so beautiful. He wants to do everything for you, wants to stay beside you as you tackle life. But he’s got nothing to provide, even less to his name—he doesn’t deserve you, doesn’t think anyone does. You’ve been through a lot, your sadness tells him. It ripples through his chest, tightens his gut. He’ll stay if you keep him around, though.

He’ll stay, aware of what he can’t have. He sees himself in you, strangely.

“Does it hurt?” you ask, afraid to touch the liquid fire blazing on his features. “Thank you. Thank you.”

He thinks to tell you he can’t really feel pain, not anymore, but you don’t seem ready for that. Instead, he shakes his head, deflects. He reaches for the bag of food, and doesn’t tell you about the nasty stares he got from the people at the overnight deli, either. They don’t know him, they only see what they want to see. Chan taught him that. And fuck them, anyway—that was Seungmin.

“Eat something. Try to get some sleep,” he balances himself on his boots. “Your phone is in there,” he nods at the bigger bag. Misses your skin on his. “Is there— What else can I do for you, sweetheart?”

He’ll never forget the way you looked at him then. For the remainder of his days. 

Someone who could care for him, like his brothers, but a girl. You. His own girl. He’d seen the others, how easy it’d been for them. Destiny, or fucking love at first sight, that bitch. He saw and waited patiently for his turn, fists clenched, teeth gritted. The possibility knocks at his heart, beats at his scalp. It could be anyone, but it’s you, he’s sure of it. Until you, there’d been no one, no real prospect. He knows this by how much he wants to stay, by how your fingers felt on his own, how your eyes melted into his. There was attraction on both ends, yes, but he was in no rush.

No rush, and yet one touch from you—

“Where are you gonna go?” You don’t make a move to check your phone, or even make sure Changbin had picked up the right clothes. You just stare at the bloody spot on his shirt, and plead for this to happen.

The amount of self restraint he possesses surprises him. He curses it.

“I’ll figure it out. That’s what I do.”

“Stay.”

He can’t help the chuckle that comes out of him. It’s ironic, really; he would kill to spend the night with you, and there’s no reason why he can’t, except you’ve been hurt so fucking deep, the scars are visible to him without even being there, and how is that even possible. He knows because they mark every part of him, similar ones, and they never heal. They just remain open, gushing, pouring out, and what else can he do but repudiate their existence—it’s haunted him for years.

He’s ashamed of his own homelessness now. Embarrassed of what he’s done, how it’s cost him, how it’ll continue to do so, unless he makes a choice. The choice. But how to take your own life?

“You and I both know how that’ll end, sweet thing.”

You’re a dream; you blink, and then you’re moving, up and closer, hand reaching out, attempting to grab, to hold onto, to insist. You’re stubborn, of course you are. There’s a flame in you he likes. You know how to survive, yet your softness is intact. He wishes he could say the same thing. He wishes he could hold you with no hesitation, no doubt in his mind.

But Seo Changbin ruins things, and he does so knowingly, despite himself always. Especially pretty girls like you, girls that don’t know any better. He’s seen it happen, he’s terrified of it happening again.

“It doesn’t have to,” you say, and he desperately wants to believe it. He’ll even wrap his hand around yours, pretend for a moment or two. “It’s just sleep. You’ve done so much for me. Please.”

He sighs, hates himself for falling into your words only because they sound sweet to his ears. He knows you’re wrong, knows his nature, knows what’s taken place in this very room many times before, and even then, even fucking then—

There’s no shame in him, truly.

“Sweetheart…” he studies your face, memorizes the creases, the lines, the smoothness of your cheeks. “You need someone that can take you home. Someone to take care of you good.”

“You did. You have.”

“I’m crooked. You don’t know what I’ve done… what I’m capable of.”

“I trust you,” you press on, squeezing his fingers, and it’s because of that gesture that he caves.

His lips curve sideways, and he’s itching for candy again. Your words are bitter, are syrupy, and clean, ambrosial. It’ll sting like a bitch when you leave, when you find out the truth. ‘Cause you will, sooner or later. You’ll have to.

Changbin nods, admitting defeat to humor you. “You impossible fucking girl. Fine. A compromise, then.”

You’re elated. You’re glad he’ll be safe, at least for tonight. The least you can do for him.

“I’ll stay until you fall asleep,” he states, putting some space between you again, and pushing curly hair away from his face. “But you gotta promise me right now that you’re going to eat.”

You don’t miss a beat. “I promise.”

His voice drops, then. “And that you’re never going back to him. Or to that apartment. Hell, I’ll find you a job, one where he can’t fucking find you,” his jaw clenches, hands busying themselves with the blankets, throwing them on the bed, anything to release the tension building up. “I’m never letting that son of a bitch near you again.”

“He’ll sure as fuck be damned if he ever steps foot on Route, I can swear that.”

It felt strange to think yourself separate from Johnny. To think you could exist without him and him without you. The bad was there, but there’d been good too, once. It never outweighed and it didn’t matter, anyway, it’d settle in your brain someday, but your heart felt uneasy just by the mention of him. You’d spend so much time convincing yourself you weren’t a victim, that you forgot to see it for what it was—a codependent, extremely toxic environment.

You had to remind yourself that the bruises on your side were still real, and that they would take at least a couple weeks to disappear. For some reason, you hoped Changbin would never see them.

You hoped he would kiss all of them better, away.

Changbin had you shower, and change, staying outside the door the entire time, staring directly at your face and nowhere else. He supervised as you ate, and tucked you into bed after you’d brushed your teeth. No one had done any of this for you before, and you kept trying to communicate that to him. He’s plenty capable of taking care of you, of anyone that comes his way; he’s generous, he owns a heart that beats, that bleeds. That’s more than some people can claim, certainly more than what you’ve encountered, and for that you’ll never forget him, no matter if he decides to keep away from you, to land you softly on your feet and disappear without a trace afterwards.

He changed you, in some way, and that will always belong to him. How many people can say that?

There were dark circles forming around his brown eyes, wrinkles on his previously perfectly pressed button down. The tie around his neck was coming loose, like he’d tugged at it a few times already. This man had really fought for your honor tonight. He fought for you like one would for his own country; for freedom, for release. For prideful reasons, and yet so utterly selfless in the act. It was all for you.

But what did he get out of the deal? A transaction had yet to be made. You wanted to give something in return. Even as he turned off the lights, and lowered the volume on the TV, even as he made sure all windows in the small room were locked, you thought and thought. What could he want? What was missing from his life? You wanted to learn more about him. Sleep was not of essence at that point.

Knowing him was.

“How did you meet Bang Chan?”

Changbin lifted his head, a mass of muscle sitting on a tiny chair in the corner, a figure hard to miss, demanding to be acknowledged, to be seen. He held his phone in one hand, the bright screen illuminating part of his rugged face. Who was he texting? Is there anyone waiting for him, somewhere? The knot in your stomach turned and turned. You kept him here without thinking, too blinded by your own feelings.

“That’s a complicated question to answer,” he said a few moments later. You couldn’t make out his expression, but his tone sounded clipped. “He found me, or I found him. We’re both high school dropouts. I was working on cars, bikes, just any… thing, really, trying to get by, and one day he came by looking for a job. Shit happened,” he chuckled at that, but there was no humor behind it. “Yeah, a lot of shit happened. And five years later, here we are.”

“Doesn’t sound complicated to me.”

“Because I saved you the bullshit middle that no one wants to fucking hear, or remember.”

You clasped your mouth shut, immediately turning apologetic. You didn’t mean to assume, only to figure out. He seemed to sense your silence, its reason, and you heard him exhale through his nose in mirroring remorse, saw him lean forward on his forearms.

“I’m sorry, sweet thing,” he half whispered. “You didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry.”

You closed your eyes, let his voice wash over you in the silence. “I’m sorry, too.” For this. For things you had no control over that happened to him. For things that will continue to happen.

“Ask me more.” An invitation.

You obliged. “And Minho?”

“At the bar. He was the first person Chan hired.”

“How old are you?”

There was a ghost of a smile in his gruff voice now. “Twenty-seven.”

Your heart fluttered. You put a hand over your chest, above the blankets, hoping, wishing your breathing would even out, your thighs would stop pressing against each other. He said nothing, spoke only when prompted, when so many quiet things ran between you, muttering, electricity through a cable, buzzing, excited, dangerous, eager.

“Changbin…”

A pause. “Sweetheart.”

“Do you— Do you like me?”

Another exhale. Inhale. He looked ready to pounce. To run for the hills. You focused on his face.

“More than I should,” he replied honestly. “More than I’m allowed to.”

Your eyes involuntarily closed again, the tension thick, hovering above you like a cloud full of rain. You wanted it to pour, to smash down on you, to crack you open and overflow you.

You wanted him to come closer. To stay forever.

“I allow you,” you murmur. “There’s nothing holding you back.”

Another one of those signature breathy laughs of his you’d grown to want more of. They stretched his handsome face, widened his molasses eyes. This man didn’t laugh a whole lot, that much was obvious. But when he did—God, was it a sight to behold.

“That may be so, darling,” he mutters hoarsely. “I’m holding myself back. You don’t want to deal with the shitshow that comes with me, and I��d never put you through it for the sake of having you.”

A heartbreaking realization. Perhaps you heard wrong. Tears swell up, chest heavy. You beg for sleep now.

“I’m not worth it,” you assume bitterly.

He taps his boot on the carpeted floor. He’s impatient, a bird taking flight. You truly meant it. You’re not holding him back; nothing is.

“Because you’re worth it,” he croaks, voice full of something you can’t quite pinpoint. “Because you’re laying there, so fucking close, and I can’t touch you. I’m afraid to even get near you.”

You swallow, throat dry, all choked up. What does it mean, that you’ve never wanted anyone as much as you wanted this strange man? What does it mean that you had to come out to the desert to find out?

“Why don’t you have a home?”

Changbin springs up, carrying a terrifying purpose in his stance. He’s going to walk out, he’s going to leave, and it’ll all be your fault. You’ve cornered a lion, and it will show you its teeth.

The truth is he’s suffocating. Jesus Christ, he’s never felt this before in his entire goddamned life.

“I burned it down.”

And no matter what he does, he can’t not want.

He’s out the door the next, phone on speed dial, pressed against his ear.

Minho answers a beat before voicemail. His voice is unassuming, a little drunk, a little slurred. The bouncer leans his temple against the cool of the wall, listening to the wind brush past mountains, past roofs and rock and still awakening man-made trees, and he wonders how helping has ever worked in his favor.

How he does it regardless, all knowing. This has been the worst one yet; worse than revenge, worse than faking your own death. His heart was involved this time. This thing he never compromises, this thing he forgets that exists sometimes, bigger and more fervent than ever.

It came back to bite him in the ass, full force.

“Can’t I have one single fucking day to myself, Bin, what is it now—”

“Take her. I beg you—take her.”

There was background noise on the receiving end. Perhaps he was in one of those parties of his again, the ones Seungmin warned him against. Changbin had no use for caution, no reason why he should be scared. What the bartender was into—he had no interest in it, could care less for it, unless Minho was having a hard time there. Besides that, he had enough to worry about, enough on his plate. Always on the brink of overflowing, yet never quite. 

This was different. This was the almost that could tilt it all over.

“Take who, Changbin? Are you drunk, too?” His friend laughs, he knows nothing. He didn’t answer his phone to Chan.

“(Y/N). She came to Route with her boyfriend. All Hell broke loose, so I brought her to Starlight.”

“You’re fucking serious.”

Changbin rolled on his back, fist against his mouth, staring up at the night sky, at the stars you were so transfixed by. They had no reason being so bright; of reminding him of innocent eyes, and rose petal lips. He searched in his pocket for a lollipop, unwrapping it with his teeth. Cherry flavored, the color of your cheeks getting out of that shower.

Closing the bathroom door behind him, he’d accidentally caught a glimpse of your legs, those silky things that carried the rest of you. He wanted to wrap them around his neck, he wanted to run his hands up and down the length of them, feel the skin there, and up, up, up, to your cunt, to your fucking soul—

“I don’t know what to do with her, Minho. With myself. I’d never seen her before, I never thought—”

“You said Starlight, right? I’ll be right there. Give me about forty minutes.”

“Don’t— Fuck, don’t really take her, Min, yeah? I just… I need you, man. She needs you, too, I think.”

His friend the problem solver. Similar to Bang Chan, but different in texture. Where the owner was rough leather, the bartender was velvety soft, safe to fall on. With Chan you never knew, it was calculated, it was for the Greater Good, it was give and take. You called Minho, he’d rush over, scold you later.

“I’m fairly sure she’s in good hands, Bin. Keep an eye out, yeah? You’re dealing with the Sharks now.”

He saw that. The tattoo on your ex’s neck. Chan knows how to deal with those better, no bloodshed, no mourning. Changbin just keeps them out, turns them away. If they don’t listen, words don’t matter to him, they don’t count. He’s got a shiny gun under his vest for that. It’s best you never find out, that you never know.

But you will. That’s inevitable, too.

He popped the candy in his mouth and waited. Johnny, was it? His threat rang in the bouncer’s head, shit he’s heard a million times before. Only thing was before he had nothing to lose. Now, he has you. He found you or you found him, that’s how people enter his life, so what? Why the fuck would he give you up? Changbin has killed for his chosen family. 

What’s once more? No motherfucker is immortal, himself included.

Only difference is that Seo Changbin doesn’t legally exist anymore. He’s dead. Nothing more than a goddamn ghost.

He won’t dare go back in your room, not without Minho. Your friend will know how to handle you, this, how to better—properly—take care of you. If anything, you’ll choose to go with him, stay over at his place for the time being. Changbin will still trail after you like a surveillance shadow, recording all your steps, memorizing the movements that make you, your nose scrunches, your gentle hip swings. You move like water where he’s nothing but fire. He can only be put out by you, can only diminish himself, evaporate on contact. 

None of it changes the way he feels about you.

He’s not sure how long he stayed out there, awaiting the familiar sound of the MotoTec Cali the bartender owned, but he saw it before he heard it, his thoughts too loud, overwhelming every one of his senses. Minho pulled up next to his own Davidson, taking off his helmet and kicking the stand in place. The motel’s sign shone brightly against his pale complexion, and it took his friend a couple of seconds to make out Changbin’s figure on the balcony, leaned over the railing, candy sticking out of his mouth like usual.

“About fucking time,” the black-haired man muttered under his breath.

“Talking shit?” Minho joked loudly, and climbed the stairs. He was obviously tipsy.

“I’m just glad you made it in one piece, Lee.”

Minho’s face was glowing, but his eyes were dilated, worried. He glanced towards the door, and then back at his friend, at his injured state, assessing the situation.

“Me too,” he agreed, before growing serious. “Is she okay?”

Changbin nodded. “She’s fine, he didn’t hurt her.” He took the lollipop out of his mouth, lip stinging. “He pulled a number on me, though.”

“Yeah, no shit. Johnny owns a boxing gym. Don’t underestimate him.”

The bouncer scoffed, spitting on the ground, a piece of his mind on what he thought about that. “He’s a bitch I left moaning on the floor. I got a few of her things from her place,” he neared his friend, lowering his tone, “I’m not— I don’t want her going back there, Minho. Chan let her stay here for the weekend, but you… can you take her in? Until I find her some place nice?”

The burgundy-haired man furrowed his brows, tilting his head in question. “You’re going to find her a place? What’s it to you?”

“Fuck you.”

Minho smirked, and patted his friend on the back, quietly opening the door. “You better keep her close, Seo Changbin, eh? She’s precious to me.”

You were asleep, hidden under a pile of blankets, stirring momentarily only to turn.

The two men looked at each other, then looked back at you. Should they wake you? Best to let you rest. Minho needed to talk to you, though, despite the bouncer’s disapproval, followed by a backhanded slap on the sternum. They went at it soundlessly, before Changbin shook his head and pointed an accusatory finger the older’s way.

Minho sat by you, fingers tangling in your hair fondly, caressing your head. You hummed, not all there. He tried again, this time shaking you softly, hoping your eyes would open just enough to recognize him.

They did.

“Minho?” You mumbled, unsure.

“It’s me, pet. Wake up for me, will you?”

You sat up abruptly, rubbing at your eyes. Changbin glared at his friend, arms folded over his massive chest, leaning against the window broodingly.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, but wrap your arms around him anyway.

He hugs you back tight, breathing in the fresh scent of your hair. “Bin called me. I got worried.”

“I…” you look at the man by the door. His expression softens upon noticing your stare. “I’m okay, Min, I… I left him. I did it. Changbin helped me.”

Minho smiled encouragingly, pulling back just a bit to look into your eyes. “Did he now? I’m so fucking glad, pet, that’s great news.”

You nodded, but your lips curved downwards, concern spreading across your features. “But it’s  not, really, is it? Johnny’s vengeful, he… well, you see what he did,” you turned towards your battered savior once again, biting on your lip thoughtfully. “I don’t want him coming after you, I don’t—”

Minho shushed you, bringing you into his arms, hand rubbing on your back soothingly. “Trust me, baby, we can take care of ourselves. We deal with people like him more often than you’d think.”

“Don’t we, Changbin?”

The bouncer said nothing, but the smirk on his face was in full effect. His gaze ran down your soft cheeks, to your exposed neck, to the shirt falling off your shoulder, and he felt his blood boiling, his dick getting hard all over again at the mere sight. Cursed to know, but unable to follow through, his body betraying him…

Heaven and Hell were teaming up against him in the form of you; the sweetest thing he’s ever come across, the only thing that could genuinely threaten his very existence.

“He’s going to take you to work tomorrow, okay? Let me make some arrangements, and I’ll come for you Monday. You can stay with me for as long as you’d like.”

His heart shouldn’t have stopped the way it did when your eyes snapped to meet his, full of surprise, questioning, scared. You thought he was getting rid of you; that you’d been a burden to him, and he was gladly wiping you off his hands and onto Minho’s. Couldn’t be fucking further from the truth, but how was he supposed to voice those words?

I’d put you in my pocket if I could. I’d fucking carry you on my shoulders, if it meant I’d be able to keep you. Fuck his damned heart, his sappy brain. Truth of the matter was—you’re his girl now. A dead man claimed you, and once that happens, everything acquires meaning, everything matters.

He’d have to live vicariously.

“Thank you,” you said, and that was that. You were disappointed, your lids heavy with sorrow, and Changbin would have to talk to you, he’d have to explain.

He couldn’t bear seeing you this way. Not when he first laid eyes on you, not now that he knows what that stirring in his chest meant. Your sadness wrapped around his throat like a chain, squeezing, choking.

Minho noticed the tension between you, felt it in his bones. He couldn’t quite understand how the two of you came to be so close in the few hours you’ve known each other, but he won’t pretend to know how a heart works, its inner secrets, the way it just seems to pick and keep picking. He rises from the bed, leaning to kiss your forehead, and he thumbs your chin, smiling down at you one last time.

“Get some rest. You’ve nothing to worry about, you’re cared for.”

You nod only so he won’t insist, and with that he turns to leave. Changbin passes an arm over his shoulder in goodbye, but his eyes never leave your frame. You’re curling into yourself, blanket over your body, trying to shrink, to make yourself smaller so as to not take as much space, so as to not become too much of a responsibility.

He was getting angry for you. Angry that this seemed to be a familiar practice for you, a trauma response. He wanted to beat that fucker’s face in, gauge his eyes out, tear his arms off. Murder came easy, but this? What he was fantasizing about?

You had to be a specific kind of fucked up to do that, and Changbin has never claimed to be a good person. He was the man you went for for your dirty work, the gruesome stuff, the things no normal person could handle. He did it if it was right, if the intention behind it was justifiable. Scum was meant to be cleaned off, and people like Johnny were just that. A smudge on his bike. Dirt under his shoe.

“Keep me updated,” Minho tells his friend, and waves at you, before the door closes and you’re left alone.

You don’t speak.

Neither does Changbin. Not at first.

But your being angry with him? He decides he doesn’t like it. Not one fucking bit.

“You understand why you can’t come with me, don’t you, sweetheart?”

You lay back down, turning away from him.

“I understand.” Soft, weak.

He cracks, scatters to reach you, to not let you slip through his fingers. He wants your eyes on his again. He wants your naked shoulder, the curve of your face imprinting on his palm. He realizes, violently, that he needs you. That if he doesn’t have you he’ll go fucking crazy, insane, absolutely ballistic. The pull you have on him is too strong, the attraction too big, the feeling so intense it makes him want to tug at his hair and scream at the world for shunning him.

You don’t need more than a few hours to fall in love, it turns out. A girl can smile at you and that’s…it—you’re done for the rest of your life, now. No one had warned him about that, but he had witnessed it. In the way Seungmin looks over at the bar, even when the door is closed, like he can see right through it. How Chan doesn’t seem a separate person from that woman; how when she’s around, he’s alert, astute, awake to everything.

Fuck him to Hell, he should’ve paid attention. They don’t call it Route 66 for no reason, he’s sure of that now.

“Don’t make me say it, (Y/N),” your name on his lips sounded important, sounded real. He whispered it again in hopes you’d look at him again, in hopes he’d get to hold your hand once more. “You don’t want someone like me, you don’t need this… Minho knows you better, he’ll—fuck,” he pressed the heel of his hand into his eye, suddenly exhausted. “You’ll be okay there. I won’t have to worry.”

For a while, you left him alone with his words echoing back to him. It scared the shit out of him, how terrified he was of never seeing you again, how each passing second of your silence sliced through him like a knife.

Then, you mercied him. You spoke.

“I didn’t mean to be ungrateful. You’ve done so much for me, and I’m incredibly indebted to you, Changbin,” you kept that same tone from before, and he had half a mind to forcibly turn you, to swoop you in his arms and never let go. 

“I just don’t know how to shut my heart to you. I don’t know why it’s telling me to stay, why it’s pointing to you so desperately…”

He did it, then. Passed his arms right under you and brought you close to him, closing the gap that’s been eating him alive. You gasped, hands clasped against your chest, and looked at him, looked at him, looked at him. He drank you in, nose nuzzled against your neck, taking every inch of you in, strong arms tightening around you, lips on your skin.

Lips on your skin. He groaned, and dug his face at the nape of you, ashamed of his weakness, afraid of his inability to control himself. The last thing he wanted was to scare you away. But you… he had no defenses left. He should’ve left when he had the choice.

There’s no choice now.

“The things I want to do to you, sweet thing…” he gravelly muttered. “I’ve been lonely my whole fucking life. I never expected to find you, a thing like you. A girl for me, just for me…” One of his hands traveled up to your cheek, keeping it there, your body fully placed on his lap now. You were consumed, engulfed in flames you had no intention of extinguishing. “Do you feel how hard I am for you, darling?”

His hot breath fanned across your face, raising goosebumps. You nodded, mind jumbled, words long gone. “Yes,” you managed out. “Yes.”

“You think I’m nice,” he continued, his deep voice reverberating through you. “You think so highly of me, don’t you?” He turned your face so his mouth can face yours, with every thought of kissing you, of tasting you. “Give me permission. Tell me I can,” he whispered, eyes flickering, pitch black with desire.

You whimpered, tears stinging. “You can,” you exclaimed. “Please—”

Changbin devoured you. He grabbed your face roughly, fingers bruising in the best way, and attacked your mouth, tongue pushing past your red lips, conquering, spreading like wildfire. You felt dizzy, able only to hold onto him for dear life, and he held back just as unyielding, a solid body against yours, moving with you.

He came back up for a breath, a drowning man at sea. He swept some hair away from your beautiful face, and stared at your swollen lips, the way they called out to him, but he’d already gone too far. There was nothing more left to do but drown, and just as well. Changbin never much cared for living anyway, he’d gladly die for this.

“What am I gonna do with you, sweetheart, hm?” he tore off the blankets, shamelessly running his gaze down your body, your curves, all the ways you could bend. His cock twitched in his pants, restrained, in need of attention. He wanted you wretchedly, hopelessly.

“Half of me wants to tear you apart, the other half wants to tuck you into bed and leave you alone…” he trailed off, licking his lips, thirsty for anything you would give him. “I know right from wrong, I know this’ll be so fucking wrong—tell me to leave you alone. Tell me to stop, baby.”

You said nothing. He inhaled, steadying himself. He had to get a grip, fast. He was losing his entire fucking sense, his mind. He didn’t want it to be like this, not with you, not here. But you were so soft, you smelled so good, felt so good, your skin warm, his heart beating against yours. It had been so hard to resist you, so hard to pretend… Changbin had never been good at lying, always going after what he wanted.

Habits were hard to break.

“You need to stop this, beautiful, I have no strength, I always fuck everything up,” he rasped, fingers creeping under your shirt already, finding their way up to your breasts—so plump, perfectly fitted for his hand, God, he was so full of you, and how to quit you now, there was no way, no fucking way—

“Don’t,” you whisper to him, and kiss his jaw, the faintest peck. “I want this, Changbin.”

“But you don’t know what I’ve done.”

“I don’t care what you’ve done,” you fight back defensively. “I care about what you did for me, and that was everything. It’s everything.”

He’d never even realized how much he’d been suffering with the weight of his actions. It all came crashing down on him now, all because you were on the verge of unlocking him, of getting as close as possible, and what if he poisoned you? What if he infected you with the shit he’d committed, with the terrible fucking crimes that followed him everywhere?

Not you. Not to you.

“I’ve killed people, sweetheart. I’ve buried them with my own two hands.”

Not the earth shattering, ground splitting, apocalypse inducing revelation he was expecting it to be. And perhaps, somehow, it wasn’t. Because he was telling it to you, the girl made for him, the girl put on this earth for him to find, his girl. And his girl would understand, because she’d see right through it. He hoped she would.

He was right.

“Why?” was the only thing you asked.

So, he told you. He figured might as well lay it all down for you to do as you like. If you hated him and never wanted anything to do with him after it, he’d have to suck it up and live with it. He’d still do as he promised, that wouldn’t change. He would protect you with his life, he was obligated to now.

“Some asshole did a hit-and-run on our friend Felix a couple years back. It left him paralyzed from the waist down. Chan swore to find the guy who did it, to make him pay,” Changbin held you close as he spoke, afraid if he let go you might run off. “I took it personally. I hunted the fucker down, destroyed his car—you don’t need to hear the rest. I knew it’d be a lifetime in jail for me, there was no saving grace if they found me.

“So, I died. I faked my own death, burned the house I’d just bought down. Chan held a funeral for me, with a fake body, a fake death certificate… My family thinks I’m dead,” he chuckled, against his better judgment. This was no time for laughing. “They think their son is dead. Their son is a fucking murderer.”

The last thing he expected—you hugged him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and cried into his vest, gun heavy in its holster, a concealed weapon he’s had to carry ever since he started working at Route, a thing that binds him to the Devil, a thing that has nothing to do with you, that shouldn’t even belong in your world.

Changbin was rendered speechless.

“I don’t care,” you choked out. “You’re a good person that did a terrible thing, and I will never hold it against you. If you’re trying to scare me away, it’s not going to work, Changbin. I dated a killer for most of my adult years.”

“And you want to live with a new one?”

You slapped him. He let you, because he deserved it, but grabbed your wrist afterwards, fiery gaze meeting yours. It was a low blow, a punch to your character, and he regretted it immensely. He just couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

Please see this. Please understand why I shouldn’t be the one for you. I never had to be careful with my words, I’ve never cared this much for anyone.

It didn’t matter. You were the one to kiss him this time, hard and bravely.

You kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him, and your lips, your soft lips—they were sending him straight to Hell, six feet under and worse, to where he can never find his way out, to where he’d eternally be unable to crawl out. He didn’t need a prophecy for this, didn’t need to navigate through a game to get the girl.

He just had to look into her eyes, learn her name. Make her stay.

Changbin wishes he could say he knew how to be gentle, how to blossom under your hand, open up to your touch. His inexperience messed with him, angered him; he was supposed to treat you differently, he was supposed to take care of you, he’d promised. But you drove him crazy, your every move sliced him, dug into his ribcage and turned. 

Call it an old habit. Or self preservation.

He wanted to see you. All of you. And then he wanted to be the one doing the turning, the slicing.

“You want this?” he breathed down your throat, pulling your head back by your hair. You had a beauty mark just under your ear. He wished to kiss it, wished to lick it. Take it as his.

Your mouth opened, your heartbeat irregular.

“There’s no going back if we do this, sweetheart,” he stated menacingly. “I’m not an easy man—I will burn myself to the fucking ground for you.”

None of it was painless to say. Every second near you required a considerable amount of effort. His own personal Odyssey.

“Changbin…” Pleading. For him. For what you want him to give you.

“No,” he growled, pressing his body on yours. “You need to know this. You need to know what you’re getting into. I don’t get sweet things like you in my life, I have no fucking clue how to deal with something good like you, and it sure as Hell won’t be easy letting go of you, if you choose to leave. Do you understand, (Y/N)? Don’t tell me I didn’t warn you.”

You whimper, completely surrendered to him, and he can almost smell your wetness, your desire for him. He thrusts his erection against your hip, and breathes deeply through his nostrils, nothing but softness, nothing but heat radiating from you. That’s for him, too. Goddamn it all.

“I’ve never had someone like you before, either,” you confess softly, your eyes wet.

Changbin wastes no time, then. He grabs you by the waist and turns you to sit on him straight, eyes boring into yours, legs on either side of him. You steady yourself on his shoulders, lashes fluttering, mouth swollen. He digs his nails on the soft skin, then drags his hands downwards to your dips, your ass. You inhale sharply, your hips unconsciously rubbing against his growing bulge.

“Show me how you like it,” he mumbles, drawing circles above your pajama bottoms. “Show me what to do, darling.”

Biting your lip, you reluctantly grab one of his big hands, and guide it to your breast. He feels your hard nipple through the thin material, wants it between his lips, his tongue sucking—he wants you in his mouth like his favorite lollipops. Wanted to switch the candy for you. You couldn’t be any worse than sugar, but maybe you were.

Maybe he was screwed either way.

“Unbuckle your belt,” you command, and your sweetness has suddenly turned saccharine.

This is the girl that was begging him to kill her piece of shit boyfriend with everything in her back at the club. The one that wasn’t afraid of the gun pointed.

He wanted to challenge her. That one. “Do it for me.” Let me feel your hands, beautiful girl.

You did. Slowly, carefully. Changbin wasn’t even aware he was holding his own breath, until his chest felt ready to explode. Still, he didn’t dare. Couldn’t, with the way your fingers went for his zipper. He was really fucking about to sink himself into you, after humoring himself he wouldn’t touch a strand of your hair. 

What a fucking hypocrite.

His cock was rock hard, red, and leaking. You run a finger over the head of it, gathering the precum there, and neared it towards your mouth, your eyes lifting innocently to meet his own. Changbin couldn’t look away, you had him completely fucking hooked. Fucking witch. He was scared of himself, then; scared of what he might do to you.

This wasn’t normal. Wasn’t for the faint of heart.

“Taste it,” he rasped, breath bated. “Put me in your mouth, sweetheart.”

Your lips curved, the finger disappearing between your lips. His eyes almost rolled to the back of his head. He wanted to draw blood. He wanted to punch something, and keep punching it until it died.

He wanted to fuck you into the mattress.

“I can think of something better,” you whisper to him, leaning close to his ear. His eyes follow you, cock throbbing, needing you there, needing you on. “Undress me, Changbin.” 

The Devil finally comes to collect.

Your shirt goes first. His hands reach behind your back to unhook your bra, rushed in their ardor, and he feels no more than a mere teenager, creaming his pants for the first time. You have him delirious, raving. Will it always be like this? This spinning, this dizziness with you. He feels like he hopped into a dance he doesn’t know the steps to. Uncharted waters. He hates it.

He shakes off the holster strap from his shoulders, wants that gun as far the fuck away from you as possible, and bends to take your nipple in his mouth, grazing it with his teeth, wanting a reaction from you, anything that would tip the scale back to him. He needed the little control he had before, needed it for what was left of his sanity. You were a dream, spread across his lap, begging him to touch you, to fuck you. No girl had asked before, none had tasted him like this.

Changbin was a giver, but you weren’t letting him give.

“So fucking beautiful…” as he dips his head in between your breasts, as he hooks his thumbs under your bottoms and panties and pulls. You lift for him, and shrug them off, passing your leg over him again once you’re fully naked. “Too beautiful, fuck me.”

He kisses you. Grabs your face and crushes his mouth on yours. He’ll get you to understand, he’ll show you. You moan against him, and it shoots all the way down to his dick. He wants to make the first move; he wants to grab his length and shove himself inside you, wants to bottom out and fuck the shit out of you. It’s an animalistic urge, one he’s not sure you deserve. You’re worth so much more—to be laid down, to be caressed all over. To be made love to. But Changbin wouldn’t know where to begin, and he’d mess it all up. So, he does what he knows and whispers to you, hopes this tether running between you is enough. Hoping his feelings for you are enough.

“Stop me,” he begs one last time, thinking that this could somehow be fixed, could be suppressed, and halted. “You can still run, sweet thing.”

You shake your head and press your fingers on the side of his face. He blinks, heart jump-starting. You actually want this. Him. You want him.

“I’m not going to,” you hush his demons, destroy his defenses.

The room is dark, the TV has stopped its programming. Changbin closes his eyes, listens to the white noise, the static. It luls him, resets him. You reach between you and grab him. He curses, or hisses, and wraps his arms around you tighter. Don’t do this, you don’t understand, you don’t fucking understand, not yet, and I…

You push him inside you, and he groans, forehead falling forward, touching yours. Your breath ghosts over his features, and he feels you stiffening up. He has to move, but there’s not one ounce of strength in his fucking body. So much for all this muscle—it’s useless against you.

“Changbin,” you choke out, hips rolling, demanding friction.

He snaps out of it. “I got you, baby, relax, I have you, I promise.” You meet halfway as he feels you working on his cock, and he thrusts up, hard, slamming you down at the same time.

You cry out and he loses it. Taking in every inch of your euphoric face, he fucks into you forcefully, almost violently, needing to find something in you, to conquer it, to keep it. His dominant hand falls on your ass, slapping, and you bounce down harder, mouth agape, brows furrowed. He loves you like this, this image of you, so free, so eager. Your pussy drowns him, envelops him, a perfectly fitted glove, and he makes sure to graze your walls, to mark his name in there, to have you come back for more, to keep you.

That’s what he’s looking for. To keep you. For you to want him to have you. If you moan out his name one more fucking time… Jesus Christ, has he ever fucked another woman before? You’ve erased them all, you’ve eradicated all memory of them.

You shudder, a thin strip of sweat forming on your chest, and he licks it all his. You taste salty, you taste sweet. You smell like soap, like vanilla. And like him, your juices mixing together, your musks tangling. He won’t last much longer, but he wants you to come first. He wants to watch you cum, coming undone on his cock, on him, while he holds you, while his fingers rub circles on the bundle of nerves between your legs. He wants you filthy, wants you his, wants you forever, like this.

Just like this.

“Look at you, sweet fucking girl, taking my cock so well…” He bites his lip, tastes metal, but doesn’t care. “You ride me so good, baby, let me see you. Fuck yes. C’ mon.”

You’re so warm, half there, eyes shut, focusing on that feeling in your gut, low in your belly, and he can’t wait. He can’t wait for you to flood him, to taste you. You’re loving his fingers, he sees it, as soon as he touched your clit your back arched, your hips loosened. Fuck, he wants to flip you around and take you on all fours. Wants to screw you from behind, have you come like that, too. You’re everything he’s ever dreamed of, everything he will ever need.

“I’m so close, I’m so close, please!” your breath hitches, and Changbin grabs you by the throat, watches how you open your eyes wide, afraid. It sends him over the edge—you send him over the edge. It’s okay, my pretty girl, let it out, it’s okay, goddamn you, let me hear you, listen to that pussy, you’re so fucking wet…

“You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you? I can feel it,” he mumbles over your lips, his fingers tightening their hold just slightly. “You’re gonna make a mess for me.”

“Yes, yes!”

“That’s my girl,” he smirks, and thrusts one, two, three—

Your entire body stiffens and shivers. He blows as you fall limply on top of him, and he shushes you, fingers sliding up to your hair, pushing back, lips connecting with your temple. You make no move to push him off you, to take him out. You really wanted this. You wanted it as much as I did, sweetheart.

He transfers you on the mattress, laying you down gingerly, and is immediately met with cold, with emptiness. What were once old friends, now bitter enemies. He wants to get used to the warmth, to the gentleness you offer. He wants to call these things his, as well.

Most of all, he wants to take you in his arms again. Wants to stick his body close to yours and fall asleep. Something so simple, yet unattainable. Until now. Until you.

Changbin pecks your shoulder as you come down from your orgasm, then presses a hand between your legs, feeling for the stickiness. He slides a finger up your labia, and brings it to his mouth, sucking the clear liquid off. You turn to look at him, knees folding, pulled towards your torso.

You turned shy again. He smiles without meaning to.

“Wanted a taste,” he defends himself. “My fingers will have to do for now,” and he winks at you.

You blush, red spots spreading across your cheeks, and bring your hand over your mouth. Precious. Cute. Changbin lifts your hand from its place and places a kiss on your soft mouth. Thank you, and he wishes you can somehow hear it in his head.

Then, he tucks himself back in his jeans, and straps back up, letting his head fall, his hand rubbing his neck. It wasn’t just exhaustion—his heart was physically hurting. He just had sex with the girl of his dreams. He came inside of her, and laid with her.

She asked him to stay. Twice.

But the truth remained—he had killed, he needed to pay for his crimes. It was only a matter of time before the police pieced everything together, and there was no amount of paying off Bang Chan could do that would keep all of them away. Some people were pure from birth.

Like you. He hoped you would be the death of him so he’d never have to deal with any of it. But that doesn’t sound like Seo Changbin, either. What is there left to do except wait it out, then? He had this golden opportunity to spend some time with a heavensend girl. He couldn’t possibly fuck it up.

He had to take care of her first.

“I have to make a call, sweetheart.”

He didn’t sleep a wink.

Instead, he watched your rib cage expand then deflate, eight hours of it. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to wake you up or not, so he just let you be. If you missed a day of work—well, you deserved a day off after what you went through, didn’t you?

And, either way, it didn’t matter. If they gave you trouble, Changbin had already found you a different job. A better paying one, too, if he was to merely guess. And an apartment, close by to the bar so he could reach you fast if need be. All was ready to go albeit your consent and personal information.

Minho had texted him about an hour ago to ask about you. The bouncer sent a ‘she’s sleeping’ and left it at that. Your friend didn’t have to know about what he’d done, or how you liked it, despite blessing the two of you.

Changbin was regretting it all a little too fucking much. For your sake. If he had no morals, no conscience or basic fucking decency, this would’ve been just another lay, just another poor girl he’d saved. But you weren’t, and this wasn’t.

Wasn’t what? A relationship. A mistake.

Yeah, sleep sure as fuck hadn’t been an option.

Just before the clock struck eleven o’clock, you stirred, stretching your arms in either direction of you, your mouth opening and closing. The sun had been well up in the sky, a warm day with a slight breeze.

Changbin had covered you with multiple blankets, but they had all managed to sneak down to your feet. You were still naked, except for your panties. His cock stirred, and he cleared his throat, messing the mop of curls on top of his head.

Fucking get a grip, asshole.

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

He saw you blink up at the ceiling, before you lifted your head to the sound of his voice. Your eyes met and—your lips curved sleepily at him. He smirked back fondly, but didn’t dare get up from where he was sat the entire morning.

“How did you sleep?” You asked, pulling a thinner sheet over you, your cheeks rosy as you rested your head on your arm.

“Great,” he lied. “How about you, love?”

“Okay.” But your face was positively glowing, your eyes sparkled.

His chest clenched. He rubbed a hand over it, trying to appear casual. There was nothing casual about the way you made him feel just then. He never stayed after sex, he never saw how the women he took to this motel looked the morning after.

And he didn’t want to. He just wanted to keep staring at you. He wanted you to look at him back, always.

“What time do you have work?”

Your eyes widened, hands immediately jumping to find your phone, to check the time.

“Fuck!”

Changbin sat back, arms crossing over his chest, watching you run around the room panicked. He’d never get used to the sight of your breasts bouncing, or the way you tucked your hair behind your ear. It was all very endearing, very lovely.

Lovely. Nothing had been lovely before. Fucking Hell.

“Don’t go,” he teased you. “I can think of a few things we can do here.”

Half way in a pair of jeans, you looked up at him like he’d grown two heads. His laugh was throaty, genuine. Your eyes, though. They betrayed you.

“I still have to work, Changbin,” you retorted with an obvious voice, head going through a T-shirt. 

“Just sayin’, sweetheart. You look fucking hot.”

You blush, but otherwise ignore him.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re mounting his motorcycle, your body pressed against his. He can’t help but think of last night, of the way your cunt squeezed him deeper, how your nails dug into his neck.

How was he going to go without you for a whole day? After knowing what he does. After having had a taste?

He needed a fucking shower. He needed ten minutes without you so he could get his head straight.

Every time he closed his eyes—there you were, your velvet skin, your breathy voice moaning out his name.

“If anything happens, anything at all, you call me,” he says for what seems like the tenth time.”Immediately.”

You all but groan, gaze flitting guiltily to the entrance of the clothing store you worked at. “Yes,” you reply for what, also most likely, is the tenth time. “I will, Changbin. I promise. Please.”

He nods his head towards your workplace. “Go. Be careful.”

You turn to run, but then stop on your tracks like you forgot something. Changbin leans against his bike, eyebrows raising. He has no time to register what is happening, or why possibly—you kiss him straight on the mouth, bruisingly, and grin widely at him.

He’s dumbfounded. Touches his lips to make sure he’s not hallucinating. Yesterday wasn’t a dream, then. You still wanted him. He drops his head so you don’t see him smiling like a fool.

“I’ll see you later!” You call out.

“I’ll be right here, darling.” And he meant it.

From the corner of his eye, a shark out of water. Prowling.

tags. @ughbehavior, @streetlight-s, @cb97percent, @j-0ne25, @danyxthirstae01, @lix-ables, @koorminii, @choinsaw.

a/n. literally no one asked for this to be so long, and yet it is and i’m so sorry. i do hope you still give it a chance, since i worked quite hard on it. i left it as an open ending, in case i want to add a second chapter to it, but as it stands, the story is finished. hope you like it, and as always, thank you for reading lovelies! 💕

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Oxytocin

Title: Oxytocin

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors – DNI

Fandom: Knives Out AU

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Older!Black!Fem!OFC (Ivy Kensington)

Word Count: 3.1K

Summary: At a New Year’s Eve party, Ransom Drysdale’s life is forever changed by a chance meeting with Ivy Kensington. 

Warnings: age gap (Ivy is 38, Ransom is 19 in flashbacks), Mommy kink, Mommy Domme/baby boy, dry humping, orgasm denial, mention of virginity, aftercare, size kink, oral sex (m receiving), cum swallowing

A/N: My tiles for @thebasementspouses VOTM Ransom Drysdale BINGO were: dry humping, mommy kink, orgasm denial, virginity, size kink. Submission for @the-slumberparty’s Eight Types of Love February 2024 Sleepover Challenge(Pragma – longstanding love). Thank you to @peyton-warren for the beta, you saved me from myself!

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

YouTube Music playlist is here.

Spotify playlist is here.

My Masterlist

From the moment he laid eyes on her, Ransom’s world stopped. The sound of her laughter, the glow of her chestnut skin, the way her deep brown irises held his focus; he couldn’t choose his favorite of her attributes. He watched as she commanded the attention of the room as she regaled her guests with tales of her various adventures traveling the globe.

He was only nineteen when he met her that New Year’s Eve night. Ivy Kensington. She was thirty-eight and newly divorced. The poor bastard that let her slip through his fingers must be insane, Ransom thought to himself. He loved how lively she was, as if divorce was exactly what she needed to feel alive.

He doesn’t know what possessed him that night to walk right up to her but, God help him, he thanks his lucky stars that he did. As he approached her, his hopes were high. Until she noticed him, turning to acknowledge the younger man. When he went to open his mouth, it flopped open and then closed after several seconds of awkward silence.

A grin spread across her face before she spoke, “You have got to be Linda and Richard’s son. Handsome like your father, and venturesome just like your mother. Now, what did you walk all the way over here for? Looked like you were about to say something interesting,” she teased, a hand going to her hip as she shifted on her feet.

“Ransom. That’s my name. Uh, I just…what I mean to say is, um-”

“Slow down, baby boy,” she soothed, stopping him mid-ramble to step closer so she could hold his chin between her manicured thumb and forefinger, “What did you want to say, Ransom?”

Her gaze drew him in, and he instantly felt at ease, gaining his voice back. “I wanted to know if you had plans for midnight, Mrs. Kensington. You know, the kiss?” he asks, voice trembling only slightly.

“It’s Ms. Kensington. You want to be my midnight kiss?” she questioned, tilting her head to the side as she looked up at him, “That is very bold of you to ask, especially coming from a virgin,” she said matter-of-factly.

His eyes widened and his brows shot up his forehead at the mention of his still intact virginity. Up to this point, no one knew he’d never been laid. He’d had his share of kissing, sure. Every time he wanted to go the distance, it never panned out. But how could she tell?

“You’re wondering how I know. You just have that look about you. Not necessarily innocent, more like naïve. And damn lucky that I don’t already have a kiss lined up. Meet me up there at midnight,” she instructed, peeking up the stairs to the area overlooking the party.

All Ransom could do was nod, for fear that opening his mouth would be a repeat of his earlier blunder.

“Now, shoo. I have other guests to entertain, and that precious face of yours will surely divert my attention,” she insisted, her hand patting his baby-faced cheek as she walked around him.

Ransom was left gobsmacked. He succeeded at talking to a woman. Well, he only succeeded with her help, but he’s not gonna mention that if anyone asks. For all intents and purposes, he’s arranged a secret rendezvous with an older woman. No elaboration was necessary, according to him at least.

For the next few hours, Ransom not-so-sneakily kept an eye on wherever Ivy went. He wouldn’t call it stalking her. He was just protecting his interests. He watched as man after man came up to Ivy, crowding her personal space. Ransom was seething quite visibly until he saw how elegantly she dispatched each potential suitor, politely letting them down and sending a look his way to let him know she saw him in the crowd.

He stopped sneering as much after that. She could handle herself just fine without him lurking. He knew that now, but it didn’t stop his eyes from searching for her the rest of the night. 

As 9 turned into 10 and 10 turned into 11, he busied himself with sitting on one of the exquisite phthalo green velvet couches in the parlor. He looked at all the knickknacks that Ivy must have picked up on various excursions around the world. For a moment, he felt like he may be underwhelming to such an amazing woman. But he let that thought die as people started to count down from ten in the other room.

He moved swiftly through the crowd, taking the long staircase two steps at a time to get to the top where Ivy stands waiting for him. Standing in front of her, his focus tied to her and only her. As the partygoers counted down to 1, his hand snaked around her shorter form and pulled her close.

Their breaths mingled; body heat was shared between them. The instant their lips met; it was over. As if the entire party vanished, neither of them tried to keep the kiss innocent. Deepening the kiss, Ransom used his tongue to massage hers, eliciting a deep rumbling moan out of her as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Emboldened by his position, he let his hand slide down past the small of her back to her ample backside. Giving it a healthy squeeze, he sighed into the kiss when she tangled her fingers in his hair.

As Ivy broke the kiss, she rested her forehead against his as they both caught their breath. Ivy lifted her head and smiled as she saw her garnet-toned lipstick smeared across his lips. He looked thoroughly debauched between the makeup on his face and the state of his hair. This simply would not do.

At his furrowed brow, she removed herself from his embrace and took his hand in hers. Pulling him down the long hallway, they entered the master bedroom and made their way to the attached bathroom. He finally caught his reflection in the mirror as she grabbed a makeup wipe from the cabinet. She cleaned his face while holding his jaw as if she thought he would try and escape from her grip. His gaze stayed on her face the entire time.

It had been so long since someone cared for him in this way. He watched as she threw away the wipe in the trash and finger-combed through his hair, making him presentable once again. In a flash, he was in a trance, something he couldn’t put a finger on. He felt so safe with Ivy like she could tell him to do anything, and he would do it without question. He was so deep into subspace that he barely registered Ivy calling his name as he blankly stared at her.

“Ransom? Talk to me, baby,” she encouraged, the back of her hand sweeping down his cheek. His eyes closed as she administered the simple yet desirable touch. 

His mouth opened as his tongue darted out to wet his lips, but no words followed his actions. Ivy guided him back to the bedroom to sit down on the King-sized bed. All the while, he remained focused on her. 

“Alright, baby boy, you gotta help me out here. Where did you go? Come on back to Mommy,” she prodded, surprised when Ransom bit his lip at her use of the word Mommy. Her eyes grew dark, and she understood instantly what he needed from her.

She instructed him to lay back on the bed and he did so promptly. The tent in his pants highlighted his arousal as she climbed over his lap. His hands moved on their own to pull her hips flush with his, but she swatted them away.

“Ask for permission to touch Mommy, baby boy,” she directed, her hands ghosting over his chest as he breathed shallowly.

“May I please touch you, Mommy?” he begged, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“After being so polite, how can I say no to my baby boy?” she conceded, reaching up to let the top of her dress down so her breasts could spill out, “You may touch Mommy, baby.”

“Thank you, Mommy,” he mewled, gripping one breast in each hand as she sat down on his clothed cock. 

She felt his length and girth with how hard he was. He felt the heat coming from her pussy as she ground into him. They both felt the intensity in the air surrounding them. When Ivy leaned down to let Ransom suckle her breast, he did so with a little too much enthusiasm at first. Once he got into a rhythm, he relished that he was able to pull soft whines from her.

Soon enough, he began to feel the tightening chokehold of his impending orgasm. He stopped sucking on her tits and chased after his inevitable end. But he was interrupted by Ivy’s words and the abrupt halt of her hips.

“Baby boy, if you want to cum tonight, you’re gonna need to make Mommy cum first. Is that understood?” she challenged.

“Yes, Mommy,” he sputtered, groaning when she started to grind into him again.

She rode him like her life depended on it, and honestly, when an orgasm was on the horizon, it felt pretty on the nose. He watched her face as she succumbed to the continuous poking of the tip of his dick into her swollen nub. He coveted the way her legs tightened around him, imagining what it would feel like to be inside her when she cums.

That thought proved to be overwhelming and while she was coming down from her high, he followed right after her. Like waves crashing into a pier, his climax washed over him. White-hot heat rushed through his cock as it spilled his jizz inside his pants. Ivy, in all her glory, never stopped riding him as he came. Even as it became too much and he whimpered for her to stop, she only slowed down. She enjoyed it so much, watching him fall apart under her.

As a tear escaped his eye, she let up on her cruel punishment of his overworked length. She removed herself from his lap and crawled up the bed to take him in her arms. His breathing had calmed down and he laid his head against her chest, idly sucking on one nipple as he lay there. He looked up into her eyes and she smiled down at him, effortlessly putting him at ease. 

They stayed that way until Ransom started to squirm in her arms, surely not enjoying the way his cum was starting to dry against his skin. She cleaned him up in the bathroom, her mouth gaping open when she finally caught sight of the sheer size of his cock. If she was ever going to get to ride it, she would need a lot of prep. He put a hand over hers when she unconsciously began to pump his soft penis.

She thought he had been trying to get her to stop but was surprised when he only wanted to change the pace of her hand. He threw his head back when she tightened her fist and knelt in front of him. Watching her through heavy-lidded eyes, he babbled nonsense for a moment until his balls drew up and he shot milky ropes into her waiting mouth. His hands went to her shoulders and unsteady legs doing their best to hold him up after blowing his load twice.

He had heard of post-nut clarity, but he was experiencing something completely different. Perhaps akin to love, but not as deep. He watched as she swallowed, warmth spreading through his chest. Maybe he was wrong, feeling more and more entranced by Ivy with every second they spent together.

She fixed her dress and her lipstick, leaving the red smudges on his cock with a smile as she zipped him up. She took him further down the hall to a hidden stairwell that led into the kitchen. They had evaded any prying eyes from partygoers, making it seem like they had been in this room the whole time.

Famished from earlier activities, they munched on hors d’oeurves and made comfortable small talk. All earlier nervousness was a distant memory as they laughed and carried on like two lovesick teenagers.

Well, like one lovesick teenager and a grown-ass woman. At this point, age was nothing but a number. A number that neither of them cared about. They exchanged numbers, making a point to see one another again.

Eventually, they made it back into the party. Ivy made sure to say a lengthy farewell to Ransom’s parents, praising them for raising such a gentleman much to the shock of Richard and Linda, but they recovered gracefully. Shortly thereafter, the Drysdales made their exit.

During the car ride home, Richard joked that Ransom had a schoolboy crush on Ivy. ‘If they only knew,’ he thought to himself.

Over the rest of his winter break from college, Ransom spent more and more time with Ivy where she taught him tip after hint after trick about pleasing a woman. It was less out of the goodness of her heart and more about the kismet between them. She enjoyed his banter as much as his body. He loved coming to her place for a home-cooked meal and the company of a woman who thought the world of him.

When the winter break ended, Ransom spent his last night in town with Ivy. Of course, his parents showed barely any interest in the fact that he was leaving early or who he was spending his time with. In their eyes, he was not only an adult, but also no longer their problem. 

Ransom had hoped that finally, Ivy would let him make love to her. But she felt a strange sense of moral obligation when it came to him losing his virginity. As much as she wanted to be his first, she didn’t want him to get even more attached to her. She knew he was in love, and if she let herself follow him, it would not end pretty. Better to end their little doomed romance now, before either of them could get hurt.

Explaining all of this to him went better than she expected. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, jaw tightening as he looked away from Ivy. She counted to five before reaching a hand to his shoulder, surprised when his hand covered hers. 

Unshed tears shone in his eyes when he turned to look back at her again. Maintaining eye contact, he brought her hand to his lips to place a kiss on the back of her knuckles. He still relished the way her breath caught in her throat when he showered her with affection.

“No matter what happens, just remember this moment. It’s just us here, no one else. If this is the last moment we share, let’s make it worth it,” he pressed, praying for all the world that she would change her mind.

“Ransom, this isn’t exactly easy for me. I want you, please know that. But you deserve to have a relationship with someone. Perhaps, someone closer to your age. Someone with shared experiences. I would only be holding you back. That is my honest opinion,” she sniffed, continuing to reluctantly push him away.

“I won’t ever stop wanting you. You make me feel things I never thought were possible. I just wish I could give you a fraction of what you give me,” he lamented.

“Trust me, you have made an impact on my life. Who knows? Maybe one day down the line, we could get together and get a cup of coffee and laugh about this,” she hinted, hoping he would take her olive branch.

“I hope we can. I’m gonna hold you to it,” he beamed, a grin painting his features and replacing the sad look he once wore, “I should get going, I guess.”

“I’ll walk you out,” she said, standing and letting him lead the way. 

She wasn’t surprised at all when he kissed her neck while hugging her. Nor when he predictably trailed kisses over her jaw and up to her lips. But she couldn’t hold back her delight when he nibbled at her bottom lip and soothed away the sting with his tongue.

For a moment, when he leaned back from her, they just looked into each other’s eyes. Nothing was said because words were unnecessary at this point. Every moment, every kiss, every shared laugh was worth it to be able to share this last long gaze.

As soon as Ivy closed the door behind Ransom, she slumped to the floor and cried her eyes out.

That night, as he drove home from Ivy’s estate, Ransom shed tears all the way back to his dorm room. 

17 Years Later

Ransom is in town for a New Year’s Eve party thrown by his grandfather. He’s grown to loathe the damned holiday and it’s not a wonder why. He’s only there to make an appearance and swiftly leave before having to make awkward small talk with his parents. While sneaking into the kitchen to find the secret stash of cookies, he overhears a sound he hasn’t heard in so long but would recognize it anywhere.

He follows the source of the laughter and is astounded to see her standing and speaking to his grandfather. Entering the living room fully, he clears his throat and they both look at him. The look on Ivy’s face of pleased anticipation threw gasoline on a fire in his soul that he thought had long gone out.

“Ivy Kensington, I’d like to introduce you to my oldest grandson. Ransom Drysdale, meet Ivy,” Harlan remarks, not knowing that these two are very well-acquainted already. Harlan excuses himself, leaving them alone in the room.

“Ransom, I-”

“You look amazing,” he blurts, cutting her off before she can say anything.

They share a laugh, a moment of excitement and comfort between them. Staring into each other’s eyes told them everything they needed to know. 

And as the partygoers start to count down from 10, they realize they have been sitting in the living room for hours exchanging stories of the past and what they were up to now. The worries they had once upon a time were all gone. All that was left was the sliver of opportunity that wafted in the air once they shared a kiss.

The passion was there as if it was still so many years ago. As if Ransom didn’t have laugh lines or crow’s feet when he smiled. As if Ivy wasn’t sporting a few perfectly groomed grey hairs sprouting about in her curls. As if that final goodbye wasn’t all that final.

And that was as good a place as any to start.

A/N: OK so this was my first time writing Ransom and I made him kinda soft as puppy toes in most of this. I hope you enjoy it.

**Tag List**

@blackwood4stucky @peyton-warren

Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁

[oncamelliastreet]

⋆｡‧˚ʚ ❀ hi!! i’m r, and i’d love to be friends ❀ ɞ˚‧｡⋆

here’s a little about me:

in general:

i am a minor, i’m fine with 18+ just don’t be…weird

i’m cis and my pronouns are she/her

i’m bi and somewhere on the ace spectrum (people are pretty but ew)

i’m an infp and a february aquarius

i’m obsessed with camellia flowers (and not because it’s a luke hemmings lyric, that was just a delightful coincidence)

tv & movies:

stranger things

fav character : max and mike

fav ship : byler

dead boy detectives

fav character : charles and jenny

fav ship : charles and edwin

ted lasso

fav character : colin and sam

fav ship : roy and keeley

heartbreak high

fav character : spider and any

fav ship : spider and missy

the bear

fav character : richie (cousin)

fav ship : i don’t really have one?

outer banks

fav character : jj

fav ship : jj and kiara

young royals

fav character: wille

fav ship: wille and simon

shadow and bone

fav character: nina

fav ship: nina and matthias

school spirits

fav character: wally

fav ship: maddie and wally

criminal minds

fav character : spencer

fav ship : jemily

sitcoms

new girl

parks & rec

the office

brooklyn 99

mcu

fav characters: bucky, wanda, loki

other fav movies

10 things i hate about you

the breakfast club

the bikeriders

grease

elvis

music:

5 seconds of summer (my favorite artist)

luke hemmings is my lane and also my favorite human ever :)

my fav album is youngblood, fav song is lie to me

luke hemmings

fav album is wfttwtaf (fav album of all time too), fav song is garden life

taylor swift

fav album is midnights, fav song is yoyok

reneé rapp

fav song is willow

chappell roan

fav song is naked in manhattan

one direction

fav album is four, fav song is what a feeling

harry styles

fav albums is harry’s house, fav song is lights up

louis tomlinson

fav album so fitf, fav song is angels fly

note: i am not a larry

niall horan

fav album is heartbreak weather, fav song is science

conan gray

fav album is superache, fav song is movies

olivia rodrigo

fav album is guts, fav song is teenage dream

sabrina carpenter

fav album is tied between short n sweet and eics, fav songs are vicious, juno, and exhale

ruel

fav album is 4th wall, fav song is lie

ashe

fav album is ashlyn, fav song is loose ends

maisie peters

fav album is the good witch, fav song is lost the breakup

madison beer

fav album is silence between songs, fav song is king of everything

florence + the machine

fav album is ceremonials, fav song is breaking down

paramore

fav album is after laughter, fav song is fake happy

i am also an enthusiast of 80s music :)

hobbies:

art:

i love to draw (graphite)

i dabble in watercolor

i do some digital art but nothing too complicated, mostly i just make wallpapers and turn albums into books

writing

nothing completed or posted anywhere because i procrastinate until i lose interest :)

reading

romance books mostly, my fav author is emily henry and my fav book series is once upon a broken heart

other fav books: six of crows duology, dance of thieves duology, abby jiminez’ most recent series (yours truly, part of your world, just for the summer), i’ll give you the sun, all our broken pieces, i’ve read most fluffy gay romances (red white and royal blue, boyfriend material, her royal highness,

⋆｡‧˚ʚ ❀ and that’s all!! i’d love to be friends, feel free to message me anytime! ❀ ɞ˚‧｡⋆

[ghost-b0i]

Tell me why tf did i just learned that No fingers February's a thing?!!!

Okay, but imagine. Deku teasing you all month while you're trying to complete this month without cumming.

"What's wrong?" He asked, a smirk starting to form on his lips at the sight of your cheeks turning pink.

"Nothing" you quickly answered as you turned back to your laptop, trying to focus on your work.

But how can you focus on your work while your boyfriend is right in front of you, chugging down a bottle of water, his shirt soaked in sweat from his workout, his muscles push against the wet fabric of his thight shirt, this man is truly a snack for the eye.

He's been at it this whole month, Teasing you at any chance he can get, kissing you while his hand rests under the curve of your ass or relaxing on your inner thigh, his thumb gently caresses your soft skin.

You're actually very surprised of yourself for lasting a whole month, even though your beautiful partner have been waking around the house wearing thight clothes or down right shirtless; if it was any other day of the year you would push him down to the sofa and ride his dick until you're satisfied.

"Damm Mina.." you curseed under your breath, somehow she knows everytime you two have been fucking the night before or even at said day, so there's no way you could cheat this bet.

"Hey Puppy?" Deku's voice cut you out of your thoughts "how long until February's over?"

"Umm, it's 10pm now, so 2 more hours"

"Okay" he smiled "imma go shower, wanna join?"

"N-not now" you stuttered on your words, feeling your arousing soaking into your underwear just from the thought.

----

As soon as the clock striker midnight Izuku's hands were ramming across your body, no matter what he just couldn't get enough of touching you, his hands sliding against the skin of your thighs and heading up, sliding under your shirt. You gasp at his mouth as he massages your nub stiff.

Soft moans leaving your trout as his lips trail to your neck, leaving hickis and biting marks at your skin before pulling back and tearing your shirt apart. Your chest now exposed for him, though it wasn't enough satisfie his hungr for your body, and it didn't take him long to tear your shorts and underwear apart to reveal your soaking pussy.

His eyes widen, green orbs scanning your body before hungrily kissing your chest.

"Fuck I missed your body" he groaned between kisses, sucking at one of your stiffened nubs while rubbing the other. His lips trailed down your stomach, leaving soft kisses on every inch of your skin. Finally, he reached the wet spot between your thighs; usually he would make you beg for him to eat you, but today he didn't have even a slight bit of power to hold himself back, his orbs glanced at you as his tounge stroked you, collecting your arousment on his tounge and moaning at the taste. It didn't take him long to have you cumming on his tongue, your sweet taste coating his mouth, and you thighs shake beside each side of his pretty face.

But he wasn't satisfied just yet, not until he has the bed soaked with your squirt. Two thick digits slipped into your slit, his thumb pressing against your clit.

Soon enough you were screaming his name, your back arching as you came once more.

Now he can fuck you and destroy any chance of you walking tomorrow.

He has your knees to your chin as you scream his name, hands grabbing at the pillow while your body slppasams around him.

"Ready for more gorgeous?" He asked with a grin.

[mothyandthesquid]

“Tomato Frog”, February’s Froggy Rainbow Yarn Club colourway. The first picture is the sock, and the one that all the members received. There’s only one left as some folk already spotted the listing and bought the rest!

Photo two shows a redder DK remake as I wanted to be able to offer both options but don’t keep the recipes for these exclusive colourways and it turned out darker. If you’d like to join the club for March, you have until midnight.

MothyAndTheSquid.com

[marlenelyra]

J. Musiala- Birthday Boy

Fluff

-in Honor of Jamal’s birthday today

„We will land in about 5 min“ you could hear the voice of the captain from the airplane. Sitting on an airplane to Munich, you couldn’t be more exited to see your boyfriend. You had been in London due filming a movie so you hadn’t seen you boyfriend Jamal in weeks. But now finally you’d come to visit him and your home town since it was his birthday in a day and also a match of him.

Your plane landed as you quickly left the crowded airport since it was a Saturday. You took a taxi to Jamal’s House in Munich. Knocking on the door it was already pretty late which meant that Jamal would be back from training. The door opened your boyfriend standing in front of you.

„Baby finally are you here“ he smiled happily opening his arms for you. You smiled back nearly jumping into his arms as his warm lips pressed against yours welcoming you home. His hands found your hips pulling you closer. You smiled into the kiss enjoying every bit of his lips on yours.

You pulled away.

„Can I come in it’s pretty cold“ it was still cold in munich since it was February and also it had recently stared snowing. Jamal chuckled leading you inside the house as he pulled you to the sofa. Your body collapsing over his cuddling into his side.

„I missed you“ he mumbled quietly his face snuggled in your hair.

„I missed you too, Bambi“ „Tomorrow is your birthday, and an important match“ you chuckled

„Don’t remind me“ „I would’ve rather spend the day with you“ he groaned disappointed

„Hey, I will still attend the match so I will still be with you“ you said

He just hummed ignoring the topic.

Although you couldn’t really spend his birthday together, you decided to spend the rest of the Saturday together. You cooked food laughing and just having fun, the game tomorrow long forgotten. Later you went to his room, lying under his covers cuddling, your head rested on his chest as he stroked your hair. You were watching some stupid movie, just enjoying each others presence. He kissed your forehead

„I love you“

„I love you too, you will do great tomorrow“

You stayed awake until midnight, joking around, kissing and just cuddling.

At exactly 00:01 you propped your head up in the bed, still lying ontop of your Boyfriend, holding Jamal’s face in your hands.

„Happy Birthday Bambi, I love you so so much, you are finally 20“ you squealed looking at his eyes

He just smiled at you mustering your face in awe. God how happy he was that you were here. He leaned in closing the gap between you, kissing you passionately his hands resting on both sides of your face pulling you closer. You deepened the kiss, both pouring all your love and admiration for each other in the touch. After a while you pulled away.

„I got something for you“ you smiled as you dragged yourself away from his body getting your gift.

You later on fell asleep his body on yours as you ran your fingers through his hair sweetly.

-

The next morning Jamal woke up early since he needed to meet up with his team before the match today. He smiled realising you were sleeping next to him. Admiring your beautiful face and shiny hair. He decided to wake you up so he could say goodbye before leaving. Jamal disturbed your peaceful sleep by covering your whole face in short sweet kisses. You groaned waking up as you were faced by a smiling Jamal. You looked at him before turning and nuzzling your head into his neck.

„Morning love, i have to leave but I will see you shortly before the game okay“ he said stroking your hair. He didn’t want to leave, he just wanted to spend the rest of his day cuddled up in bed with you.

You nod slowly, but before he could leave the bed you planted a long kiss on his lips. You groaned as his body warmth left yours wishing for nothing more than for him to come back and cuddle you.

„Later, Birthday Boy“ you called after him as he left the room smiling.

You spend half of the morning staying in bed not wanting to leave the warmth of it but after sleeping in and having a warm hot breakfast it was already 3:30. The match would start in 2 hours and you wanted to be an hour early so you could still see Jamal. So you got ready and drove to the Allianz Arena in Jamal’s Car. After seeing some people you knew and talking to them you finally settled in the stands. The game would start in 15 minutes and the boys including Jamal came out onto the pitch.

Jamal’s eyes immediately searching for you. As they finally found you sitting in a chair in the stands wearing his jersey he walked up to you. You stood up leaning up against the railing smiling as you saw the brown haired boy that was now standing under you but also in front. Your faces were close to each others.

„Good luck, you got this“ you said to him as you leaned your head down to his. He smiled kissing your lips.

„I’ll score a goal just for you“ he confidently said

You chuckled as you pulled away „just go“

-

The game started well Bayern dominating against Union Berlin as the first goal was shot by one of Jamal’s Teammates Choupo-Moting, not long followed by Kingsley Comans goal. And then right before half-time there was Jamal’s Goal. The whole stadium erupting in screams and cheers. You jumped up happily from your seat screaming your boyfriends name. He ran up to and pointed at you as he blew you a kiss and a wink. You smiled your heart dwelled with warmth, butterflies going crazy in your stomach.

The game didn’t last long before you heard the whistle to halftime. You left your seat quickly searching for your boyfriend. When you found him in the tunnels of the arena you ran up to him.

„Jamal you were amazing, you just scored on your birthday“ you shouted happy

He smiled as he saw you but soon his expression changed to worried, his hands resting as either side of your cold face.

„Hey, are you okay you look really cold“ he asked looking concerned. The weather had changed and the arena was filled with snowflakes and a cold breeze.

„Im fine“ you smiled „are you?“

„yeah I’m perfect“ he answered still not convinced of your answered

„but we can still cuddle to warm up later right“ you question him quietly gazing up at his eyes

„of course“ he chuckled pulling you into a hug wrapping his arms around you.

-

The game had stared again and soon ended with Bayern winning 3:0. you left the stadium with Jamal hand in hand. Arriving home you again found yourself on Jamal’s couch wrapped up in his arms enjoying the others presence and warming each other up agree the cold weather. You listend to his steady heartbeat making your eyes feel heavy.

„Thank you for the goal tho“ you broke the comfortable silence

„Always baby“ he chuckled kissing your forehead.

[thgfanfictionlibrary]

Teen and Up Rated Fics Masterlist (14)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 /

Created: February 9th, 2024

Last Checked:—-

Baby It's Cold Outside-HGfanonezillion (ao3) Summary: Katniss needs help on a cold night and the only person she can get on the phone is Peeta, a guy she's had a couple classes with. He's more than willing to come to the rescue!

Cheese Buns and Garlic Cakes-winryofresembool (ao3) Summary: Peeta finally gets a chance to talk with his childhood crush when she shows up at his door to sell some ingredients for his pastries.

If We Met Up at Midnight-Mollywog (ao3) Summary: Had the messenger arrived a day earlier, he would have been greeted by a yellow flag above our door, and had to turn back, summons undelivered. The odds, however, are not in my favor.

In the Background-deinde_prandium (ao3) Summary: "But every so often he’ll touch her hand, or brush a wisp of hair out of her face, or something equally intimate that makes her feel like her heart is going to stop, and she has to to remind herself of where she is. Either this Peeta guy is flirting with her, or he’s too good of an actor to be doing BG gigs." Katniss and Peeta are movie extras who meet on a film set. Based on a tumblr prompt.

Intimate Bystander-burkygirl (ao3) Summary: Katniss said it was just for the cameras. Gale believed her until he discovered she screams for Peeta in the night. In the days before the Quarter Quell, Gale finds out there’s more to Katniss’s relationship with Peeta than she’s led him to believe. In-Panem, mostly Canon. Everlark Fic Exchange, Springtime Edition, Prompt 1 – Gale walks in on/eavesdrops/overhears Everlark being intimate.

Okay. Sure. If You Want To.-endlessnightlock (ao3) Summary: “You’ve never even touched yourself?”

Positive-rarepairheathen (ao3) Summary: In AU Panem after Katniss winner of the 74th reality TV show “The Hunger Games” she finds herself in a world of trouble.

Reunion-Mollywog (ao3) Summary: A kidnapped but not hijacked District 13 Everlark reunion

Strange Things Did Happen Here-Mollywog (ao3) Summary: In The Hanging Tree Universe-Katniss seeks out Haymitch for answers.

The Oktoberfest Effect-Alliswell (ao3) Summary: Prompt: Town boys (drunk?) dare each other to venture into woods (Halloween night? [Oktoberfest]). Katniss saves Peeta (from peacekeepers? storm?) by pulling him into a cave for the night. (Drunk Peeta talks too much and is cuddly?) by @567inpanem for Seasons of Everlark on Tumblr.

[hazyletter]

It's late, but can be considered to be early by one Tsukishima Kei in some way. He sighs to the winds and puffs of air are visible in front of his mouth because of how cold he was, comforting his cold hands inside of his thick sweater. 

The playground swing is low, making him stretch out his legs into straight lines, shoes colliding with the sandbox underneath it. Kei tries swinging a little, cicadas of the night this close to lulling him to sleep but he contained himself. 

Until he hears footsteps.

Kei turns on reflex and there he was, the person he'd been waiting for.

"What took you so long?" Kei tiredly says, close to a whisper because of how he was holding himself back to fall asleep right there and then, in the middle of the neighborhood playground at 1 in the morning.

"Sorry." Tobio genuinely looks apologetic as he walks closer to Kei, caressing his cold cheeks and kissing him on the side of his head. 

Kei hums at the attention, pulling out a hand and clutching Tobio's with it. On reflex, Tobio separates them for a beat and interlocks them completely, rubbing his fingertips to Kei's freezing hands using that warmth of his. He sits down on the swing beside Kei's, hands still not separating, and looks up at the stars.

Meanwhile Kei studies him. Tobio looked not as sleepy, as if he had just woken up four hours ago. Still, he didn't expect for himself to willingly go outside at this hour because Tobio asked him to meet up. 

In the middle of his contemplation while watching the stars reflected in the own skies of Tobio's eyes, they turn to him and Kei blinks. 

Tobio's expression turns into recognition and he grabs something on his seat beside his hip, Kei only noticing it now after he had arrived, and pulls out a dino-themed bouquet-filled with yellow and blue flowers. 

Kei pauses and his mouth slightly parts, sight stilling at the looks-to-be fiddling Tobio on where he was. 

"Happy Valentine's." Tobio whispers.

The street lights put them in the spotlight at this very swingset, and Kei couldn't believe how warm he suddenly felt despite February's cold demeanor. But the figure in front of him is the opposite.

It's not instant, like paint slowly being guided through the surface of a canvas until it perfects all up in one clean stroke. Here, Tobio's blushing portrait as he looks away is not a painting but is art itself, Kei thinks to himself as he sucks in a sharp breath. A second parts. Then, without waiting, Kei laughs.

Laughs until the chains of his swing crinkles with a dog's bark echoing from the distance. Laughs as Tobio watches him confused but also intrigued. Laughs as Kei suddenly has the urge to kiss Tobio. 

And so he does.

It only lasts for a pair of heartbeats as Kei could feel, embody this unexplainable euphoria inside of him that makes him feel ridiculous, but the dazed look on Tobio's face after their lips part is worth it. 

Kei's nose crinkles as he contains another laugh bubbling in his throat, and he settles on a smile which can only be described as fond and gaze full of endearment, "Happy Valentine's to you as well, hm?" 

Tobio releases a small breath, Kei following the slight pout on his lips, before he raises a brow at the setter. Tobio interrupts his teasing demeanor by leaning and kissing him again.

Kei makes a sound of surprise before relaxing on reflex, getting a hold of Tobio's nape and squeezing the hand still holding his as Tobio leans into his space and fills it with colorful thousands of galaxies.

Right before they part, Kei lets out a forgotten chuckle and they breathe besides each other's lips as his eyes are closed. When he opens them, he is greeted by Tobio kissing his nose, making Kei snap his eyes shut at the feeling again, until he is pulled standing.

Tobio looks up at him as if asking for permission and Kei curiously looks back. There, Kei is embraced and is filled with life as Tobio holds his waist, free head resting on his chest that makes Kei curious if Tobio can hear how fast his heartbeat was.

Kei tucks his chin on top of Tobio's head and starts playing with his locks. With the sudden gesture, Kei's curiosity is brought back quickly, "You're clingier that usual." He really couldn't help but tease.

Tobio mumbles something muffled into his sweater. Kei snorts, "Hm?" 

Tobio looks up, crimson once again spreading throughout his face and ears and Kei contains himself from cooing. 

"I've been thinking about a gift since Hinata had been annoying about me giving you one 2 weeks ago." Tobio frowns deeply. "Saying that I'm not giving you one because I can't do it." He scoffs. 

Kei raises a brow. "Oh, so you gave me this cute little thing because you felt threatened by him?" 

"N-NO!" Tobio jumps, denying it, but quickly deflates with a click of his tongue at Kei's knowing look. The setter looks somewhere for a moment, avoiding Kei's eyes before he pulls it back, but still unfocusing from time to time as he says, "I w-wanted to give you something. Even if I knew you wouldn't mind with nothing." He lowly says at the end.

Kei slyly smiles, "And that you are right about." Sighing, he leans down to Tobio's shoulder, holding his back and caressing it with his thumb. The movement makes Tobio shiver for a moment and thrill seeps inside Kei. "I like it, though. Don't worry about it."

Tobio huffs, "I dare you not to." He raises a mocking brow and glares at him, taunting. 

Kei grins, not taking him seriously because of the blush on his nose. "If you say so." 

They start walking, not before Kei grabs the bouquet from his past seat and cunningly waves in front of Tobio who morphs into an even intense scarlet and turns away from Kei's annoying cackles until they exit the playground, still side by side and their hands inseparable.

"Why couldn't you have given this to me at school? Missed me that much?"

"I would have if it weren't for the risk of Hinata being an annoying dumbass. Don't get so full of yourself."

"Hm."

"..."

"..."

"...Yes. Whatever. Shut up."

A chuckle.

"SHUT. UP."

A full-blown laugh. "I didn't say anything."

"I can hear what you're thinking...!"

"That's just the clinginess speaking."

"Your clinginess, huh?"

"..."

"...Pfft."

"Come here."

"Nope. Can't hear you over the sound of your clinginess. Sorry."

please try and support this on ao3 as well ! ! ^-^

[jmdbjk]

This is literally my brain when it starts overanalyzing:

Anyone else like that? My brain won't stop thinking about Jikook in February-March. It has decided to go into overdrive on the Jikook chronology of those two months and the only way to appease it is to obsessively obsess.

Let's review: back when Cedric Murac of Calvin Klein posted on his Instagram story that he was on his way to Seoul on January 29, we all got excited, and then what?... crickets.... Then we had the audacity to be angry at Calvin Klein for using Army for clout hahahahahaha. We didn't know!! Who turned out to be the clowns? We were skeptical up until the first images dropped of Kookie's bare abs.

We have no idea exactly when the CK ads were photographed but the one big clue we have is JK's hair. Jungkook emerged from deep hibernation at the beginning of February. His hair was long, long on Feb. 3 and a week later on Feb. 11, he had bangs and it had a lot of waves in it when he was working out at Coach Tommy's gym. Much like the way his hair looks in the CK photos.

We saw JK on Feb. 27 and his hair was long in the back.

Not relevant but, in a way, also relevant: on February 28, Jungkook deletes his Instagram account. We are shooketh. At that moment I thought for sure there will be no ambassadorships for him, the whole point of having a large social media following is to harness those followers and turn them into cash money.

Ok back to the task at hand: We saw both Jimin and Jungkook on March 3 and JK's hair still looked long in the back. By March 14, JK had cut some of the length off the back.

My brain also wondering: when did JK's visit to Jimin's rehearsal happen? between Feb. 3 and March 13 when Jimin left Seoul to go to NYC to tape the Jimmy Fallon show? Or that week AFTER when he was rehearsing for the Korean television music shows? That would have been the week of March 20-27? The car live where he told JK it was ok that he didn't come to one of the pre-recordings was on March 28.

[Regardless, that's a quick turnaround for a Bangtan Bomb.]

My brain on a tangent: what is JK doing there at work to begin with? During this Bangtan Bomb he was already decked out in a CK ball cap and CK denims and not dressed for a workout or rehearsal. Who knows, maybe he was there for his own meetings, fittings, reviewing photos, or other activity. Yelling at my brain to FOCUS on the topics already being discussed!

March 15, Jungkook posts his ramen recipe on Weverse and he and Jimin proceed to have a back and forth convo with Jimin who says he needs to head to JK's house when he gets back to Korea.

March 19, Jimin returns to Seoul from New York after his Tonight Show filming and his feature video for Vogue magazine.

Mar. 23 at 3:06 a.m. Jungkook wants a midnight tuna/chicken goulash snack.

The next night, Mar. 24 at 12:58 a.m., Jimin does a Weverse live in the car on the way home following Music Bank taping.

On Mar. 26 at 9:39 p.m., Jimin does another live in the car following MCountdown taping.

On Mar. 27 at 2:53 a.m., Jungkook sits down with us to watch Suchwita with Jimin, a Jimin MV, a fan-made Jimin compilation video and more Jimin, Jimin, Jimin.

The Calvin Klein campaign dropped on March 28 at 6:30 a.m. after being teased 24 hours prior. That would have been 8:30 p.m. KST.

Mar. 28 Jimin starts a live at 6:00 p.m. in the car (heading east by the way... my brain geez) after Inkigayo recording and Jungkook jumps in the comments. He had seen Jungkook's Calvin Klein teaser images by then.

Confused yet?

Me? I'm a visual person so I had to do this to see how it all played out:

On April 3 at 3:30 a.m., Jimin comes on live to receive our love over his history making #1 BBHot100 achievement.

Jimin is still working. He is not sitting at home. There is something in the works, we just don't know what yet.

Jungkook is probably about to be on his way home because we suspect Hobi's induction day is this week [sobs]. Time rolls on and waits for no one.

ANYWAY!

I hope you were entertained. We still don't know when that Calvin Klein photoshoot was or when JK visited Jimin's rehearsal, but now you have a visual calendar where you can see the possibilities.

You're welcome. [finally slams that door in my brain.]

[pocketramblr]

5 ask game:

An au where through a turn of events Aizawa gets custody of Midoriya a week before classes start (I think this could be humorous or angsty af depending on what you do with it)

You know how I'm going to pull this off? Bet you can't guess. Ok did you notice that no one sent any au about Giran? I did and I'm going to fix that. Let's go

1- the series of events starts because Giran is Hisashi. Calls his family but isn't there in person, ya know. Has a tap on the phones in case of government calls- he doesn't care about eavesdropping on what Inko tells Masaru she's buying for someone's birthday, but he would like a warning in case something happens like the police calling his son to ask about his father's whereabouts.

So, the last week of February, he's alerted when Izuku calls the Quirk Registry to update his information- which he absolutely should not be doing, because he should not have a quirk from AfO.

2- Giran also knows his son will be starting at UA in five weeks, and there's a plan to attack. He needs to know how the hell Izuku got a quirk, if he's a mole or a target of the attack, and he needs to find out quickly. But Izuku isn't going to tell him the truth (he tried asking). So, he needs someone who can either figure it out or get Izuku to tell him, while also being able to keep Izuku away from AfO. Which... Eraser evaded AfO a while without realizing it, and it would probably be easier to get him involved than someone like All Might.

3- Target picked, Giran starts the plan. He announces he's coming home for a month and spends a week there, then buys Inko tickets to enjoy herself on a ten day cruise while he takes care of everything at home, since she's had to do herself so long. He's quite the charmer, there's a reason Inko married him. The day after Inko leaves, he spends the day with Izuku. Then, that night, he fakes an accident that puts him in a coma. Izuku wakes up to police knocking on his door and apologizing, asking to speak with his mom. But she's not there. And she won't be back for over a week. They bring him to the hospital instead.

4- Meanwhile, Aizawa gets a call from the hospital and assumes it's because something happened to Mic or Midnight, but when he gets there... Apparently he has a long lost half brother he never knew about? Who is in a coma? Leaving behind a child who needs a temporary guardian? And they prefer to place them with family? And the kid clearly doesn't know him, but Aizawa recognizes him as the bone breaking kid, so, why not. This is what his life is like now. It's temporary until his mom gets back anyway, and that'll be a few days before UA starts and it gets too awkward.

5- After going back him with the kid, Aizawa investigates around the house and does find the fake records of the relation to his apparent older brother. Giran left the copy of the Quirk Registration form in that stack too, to pique Aizawa's attention. It works a little, and the next day when Izuku wakes up and asks to go train, Aizawa prods about where and with who- "A trainer, he's been helping me out the last year. The hospital won't let me into the room to see my dad, and I just need to do something..." Aizawa gets the feeling, asks if Izuku's parents know about this trainer. Izuku says yes, his mom was helping with the diet plan. Giran, eavesdropping now on purpose, knows that Izuku's lying. Then Aizawa asks how he's being training for a year with a quirk he's only had a month. Izuku awkwardly tries to answer without answering, but Aizawa shrugs and says it's fine, as long as he meets this trainer and can have his number in case of emergencies. Izuku can't really argue with that, and takes Aizawa with him to the beach, where he recognizes the trainer of his apparently long lost nephew is All Might.

[dutchforstrangers]

Tour • ne • sol - Taiora double bill pt. 2

January 6th/7th 2024.

Summary: On the day after New Year's Eve, Sora misses her sunny boyfriend, worrying herself sick over his whereabouts. Luckily, her friends have some flower-y surprises, with the biggest one to come at the end.

A/N: Happy New Year! Today marks the date of something dear to my heart and so it’s time for Taiora double bill part 2 (here's part 1)! See it as some sort of “anniversary present” ;) And remember, no matter how far we’re apart, turn your head to the sun (or moon, because you’re more of a moon person) and you know we live underneath the same sky <3 Enjoy! P.S. That song is an ChatGPT original haha :D

Taiora double bill pt. 2 | Characters: Sora Takenouchi (POV) x Taichi Yagami, appearances and mentions of the other DigiDestined | Genre: Long distance surprise, romance, general, friendship | Rating: T | Wordcount: 3.094

Tour • ne • sol

Sora would be lying when she said New Year’s was a blast. Right before the clock would strike midnight, she had felt nothing but anxious and alone. Why exactly that feeling was dominating, she couldn’t pinpoint. She was surrounded by people she loved and who loved her back just as much, if not more. And the past year had been an absolute miracle in so many ways. Her trip to Italy standing out to her the most.

The trip to Taichi. The trip that changed it all.

It had been one of the hardest goodbyes when they had to part in August, knowing he had to stay while she had to leave again. It was a bittersweet goodbye. Bitter, because their parting happened right after finally answering the genuine love the two of them had been feeling all along. Sweet, because, at least, it wasn’t forever.

Fortunately, time had passed rather quickly and now it was already January 1st. Taichi would return to Tokyo at the end of February, in time for her birthday and a planned vacation they would spend together. Sora was absolutely thrilled, looking forward to every future second. Sure she had been missing him until now, but it would all turn out fine.

Still there was this anxious feeling.

Perhaps, deep down inside, she was afraid for his return. Would the feelings have stayed the same, or did they change? What if he would look different than what she could remember. Than how she had always known him? Something told her, however, that that anxious feeling had nothing to do with those irrational fears.

Sora bit her lip, looking down at the cellphone in her hand. The screen was lit, on it Taichi’s last message to her.

Happiest of New Years to you my lovely Sora!

It had definitely turned a smile on her face and of course she texted back as soon as she could, but due to an overloaded mobile network and the poor reception that was the logical follow-up, her message didn’t come through. That had made her anxious of course, but the phone call she had with him earlier in the day had made up for it.

But now it was the morning after, her message was eventually sent, but he didn’t replied, probably not even seen it. A wave of sadness overcame Sora and the anxious feeling of being forgotten washed over her.

Sora sighed.

For all she knew, Taichi was still celebrating with his newfound friends in Italy. She wanted, needed, to know and with her fingers she typed another message to ask him about his day and celebrations, only for it to be deleted again right after. She wasn’t the pushy girlfriend, right? If he wanted to text her, he would.

All sorts of scenarios crossed her mind, from Taichi kissing other girls to him being drunk from all the Italian wine and this passed out. Maybe his phone died. Maybe it fell, or he lost it…

“Stop it Sora, you can trust him! Right?” she said out loud to no one in particular as she held her phone to her forehead. For a little while she stood like that, unnecessary tears stinging behind her closed eyes. She wasn’t going to give in to those, and she didn’t have to.

Through her eyelids Sora could see a sudden light, cueing that her phone had just received a message to show her. Her eyes shot open and within a second she had unlocked her phone. Her messaging thread with Taichi was still opened, but there was no new message to be found.

Slightly annoyed, Sora swiped away Taichi’s chat to see who was the one who had sent her a message. Probably her mom telling her she had forgotten something at their house early this morning, she immediately thought, but she was surprised by someone else’s name.

Sora-san! Happy New Year! I have a little present for you, I’m at your door in 5 minutes. Could you open up? Love you soooooo much!

It was Mimi and a smile replaced her frown. Sora remembered how lucky she had been with such wonderful friends, then remembered she wasn’t exactly dressed to receive guests, so she hurried to the bathroom to wash up and dress herself in something more decent. She hoped that Mimi’s coming by would cheer her up good enough to stop the sulking over her boyfriend being far far away from her.

Just in time before she could get back into the sulking, the bell rang and she sprinted to the door to welcome Mimi in. As she opened the door, Sora tilted her head in pleasant surprise.

“Not alone I see?” she asked with a grin on her face.

“Hello Sora-san, happy New Year.”

“Nope! As you can see, I dragged Koushiro-kun with me. Hope that’s okay with you? We actually won’t stay long,” Mimi said with a wink.

The two guests entered Sora’s apartment, both of them being familiar enough to know the way once inside. Sora closed the door and followed her friends into her own living room where all three of them took a seat, Mimi on the chair and Sora and Koushiro on the couch. Mimi placed the bag she had been holding on the coffee table in front of Sora.

“I baked you something!” Mimi exclaimed happily as she impatiently waited for Sora to reveal the insides of the bag.

She found it the sweetest gesture, but had no clue to what she owed this exactly. Nonetheless, she was grateful for it and carefully unpacked the baking from the bag.

“Is it a carrot cake?”

“Mmhm!” Mimi confirmed excitedly, nodding her head rapidly. “But I gave it a touch by adding a nice amount of sunflower seeds. To wish you both an orange and sunny new year.”

Sora smiled as she kept looking at the cake, the orange and ‘sunny’ reminding her of Taichi. She was happy with the gift, but couldn’t help to feel the sadness pinching a little. She looked up to look at Mimi, hiding away any visible sorrow.

“It looks delicious. Thank you Mimi-chan, I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime,” Mimi said lovingly, flying out of the chair to give Sora a friendly little hug. “You deserve to have all the orange and sunshine in your life. He will return in less than two months, am I right?”

Of course Mimi looked right through her, Sora thought to herself. Without saying a word, hiding it away as best as possible, Mimi knew it anyway. And of course she tried to find a way to cheer Sora up. So Sora nodded to the question, now knowing she was unable to hide it from them.

“Then why the sad face?” Mimi asked as she sat back down in the chair.

Sora looked down at her own hands. “He hasn’t texted me after his last message at midnight our time. I’m a bit worried I think?”

“I see,” Koushiro started, “it’s normal to feel that way. But I don’t think you have to worry, Sora-san.” Koushiro reassured her with a knowing smile, a careful hand gently placed on her shoulder. He usually wasn’t the type for physical reassurances like these, but with Sora he felt more open and she absolutely loved her co-redhead for it.

“Unless he fell into a river while being overly drunk. I mean, right? There is a river in Rome, right?”

“Mimi-san!” Koushiro called out. Mimi ducked away further into the chair, in her way feeling sorry for her words. Sora could only laugh at her friends’ antics, even though Mimi’s words did sting a little, exposing a possible truth Sora wished wouldn’t be true. “Anyway,”

Koushiro diverted everyone’s attention with just that one word, his hand reaching for something in his pocket. Sora watched him closely, curious what was so important to change the subject. It didn’t take long for Koushiro to take the item out and he proudly held up a USB stick.

“It contains a little PowerPoint presentation I made.”

Sora thought it was suspicious, for the simple fact that it was ‘just’ a PowerPoint and not some sort of complicated other piece of software Koushiro would have created himself.

“I think it might peaks your interest, maybe you could take a look and let me know what your findings are?”

Unable to say no to her friends, she held out her hand and took the little thing from Koushiro. “I let you know,” Sora said with her kindest smile

“But not now!” Mimi said after looking at the clock hanging on the wall. “Koushiro-kun and I have to go.”

Sora’s suspicion rose. “Why the sudden hurry?”

“Koushiro-kun and I promised to pick up my cousin from Europe!”

“Together?”

“Mimi-san didn’t want to drive alone, so she asked me to accompany her.”

It at least sounded honest. Sora nodded and followed her friends to the door to say them goodbye. As she shut the door behind them, the feeling of being alone flooded back. Sora sighed, dragging herself and her racing mind back to the living room.

Once arrived, she seated herself on the chair, slumping away while tightly holding on to one of the pillows. Her eyes looked at the cake and the USB on her coffee table and a faint and grateful smile appeared. She didn’t have much time to take it all in and wonder about their intentions.

*PING*

The phone in her pocket announced an incoming message. Her heart skipped a beat and with one sharp motion she flew out of the chair, now able to get deep into her pocket. Her heart skipped another beat seeing the first part of the name on her screen.

Yagami

She should have known though that he wasn’t the only one with that last name in her phone and disappointment hit like a stab in her stomach.

Hikari: Happy New Year dear Sora-san! I wish for you to have a warm year with lots of Love and Light that will brighten your sky. I was going through some pictures from crafts made by my kindergarten kids and I stumbled upon some shiny ones! Who knows this will make you feel less alone, he will be back before you know it.

Sora wondered whether Mimi or Koushiro had texted Hikari to let her know about how she felt. Especially after looking at the pictures of the crafts Hikari had sent her. Sunflowers, in all forms and shapes. The yellow and orangeness combined with the by the children taken creativity warmed Sora’s heart, Hikari’s attentiveness even making her heart flutter.

Still she couldn’t help but to want the attention from the girl’s brother and not Hikari. So Sora quickly typed a thank you message in return before heading over to her chat with Taichi. With blind annoyance she wrote a message.

Taichi, where are you? I’m starting to feel like I’m not important enough for you. I feel kind of neglected? Anyway, I’m worrying myself sick over you and that’s not the way to start the year for Kami’s sake.

For once she did not read it twice and immediately hit send only to feel complete guilt right after. Her heart started racing.

I’m sorry! I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I just… I love you so much and you haven’t replied to anything and I just want to know whether you’re safe or not. Please, Taichi, can you please send me a message back? Even though it’s just an “I’m OK”… I’m so sorry…

Sora bit her lip as she crushed her phone between her hands as it was the only way for her tension to get out. She was on the verge of crying, of feeling miserable and an incredibly bad girlfriend. Her mind wandered everywhere and felt numb all the same. She was slowly losing herself and hyperventilation was close.

However, a vibration in between her hands brought her back from the spiraling. For a moment she concentrated on the ongoing vibrations, easing the fast pace of her heart. Or at least try. Because the chance this was Taichi calling her was rather high after those messages she sent and Sora wasn’t sure whether she was ready to face him like this.

She was both relieved with and surprised by the caller ID popping up on her screen.

“Yamato?”

“Hey Sora, happy New Year.”

She had never felt so happy to hear his voice. There was no way for her tears to stay hidden.

“Are you okay?” He sounded worried. Knowing.

She nodded, then remembered she was on the phone. “Yes. No. I don’t know? I’m just happy it’s you who’s calling and not him.”

There was a short silence on the other side, but Sora knew Yamato was nodding his head. Taking his time to find the right words.

“I know this is hard to believe when you’re feeling the way you are feeling, but believe me as I say that Taichi hasn’t forgotten you. He would never forget about you, you and I both know that,” he reassured her and Sora nodded understandingly. “And if it helps, he hasn’t texted me either. I think he’s just… occupied. You’ll hear from him sooner than you think.”

“Okay,” she replied quietly, taking the time to let his words sink in a little more. “Thank you, Yamato, and a happy New Year to you too,” she eventually said.

“Thanks.”

“To what do I owe this phone call?” She asked.

“Erm…” he sounded nervous. “I was wondering… could you listen to these lyrics I just wrote?”

Lyrics? Sora thought to herself. “You’re writing music again?”

“Just a little something. You don’t have to listen to it if you don’t want to—”

“No! I’d love to actually.”

“Alright,” he said and after some shuffling he started softly playing.

Sora closed her eyes and she felt herself zoning out. The melody felt like warming rays of light embracing her.

As the seasons change, and the days drift by We’ll hold onto the light, under the open sky Through gentle rain, and the storms that may come, We’ll stand tall and strong, turning to the sun

The lyrics made their way to her heart and a single tear rolled its way over her cheek, a bright smile accompanying it.

“It’s beautiful,” she said as he ended his singing. They exchanged some more words, making Sora feel a bit more relaxed, then wished each other a good day.

“Oh, before I forget,” Yamato interrupted. “Please look in your mailbox, I think Takeru has left something in there. I gotta go now, take care of yourself.”

And with that he hung up, leaving Sora with questions.

Hadn’t it all been a coincidence? Her friends, acting like this. Everyone coming over, texting her, calling her, apparently leaving her things in her mailbox… Everyone, except that stupid Taichi.

Sora balled her fists, then walked to her front door, stepping into her shoes and opening it. On the ground stood a small glass bottle with a note attached to it. Another surprise.

“Hi Sora-kun, Jyou here! I got you a little massage oil, it’s made from sunflower oil and I immediately thought of you. Please save it for a special occasion. And a happy New Year!”

Again the sunflowers… What was going on with everyone?

She placed Jyou’s present inside, shut the door and headed for the staircase of her apartment’s building. Because even though she could take the elevator, the stairs seemed to be more fitting to get that adrenaline out of her system.

She jumped, flew down the stairs, skipping at least two steps of the stairs with every step. Once arrived on the ground floor, Sora sprinted to the mailbox, opening the thing and immediately seeing what Yamato had meant on the phone.

There was a little notebook with on the first page Takeru’s handwriting telling her the notebook contained handwritten short stories about sunflowers. And that all their other friends had come to him with inspiration.

Sora’s mind was blown, completely overwhelmed with all the information she received. The gifts, the sunflowers… Still the feeling of being ignored by her own boyfriend lingered the most. And she wanted to ugly cry and scream. Loud.

She turned around to see if there was anyone there who could worry over her if she was going to scream.

“Sora,”

She turned around, her eyes taking in the sight of a boy she had been longing for since midnight. His brown hair was a bit of a mess, his cheeks showing a blush, though Sora couldn’t tell whether it was from being outside or from their for her unexpected encounter. In his hand he held a bouquet of sunflowers.

Sora could feel the tears sting. Her friends were right when they said he would be back sooner than she thought he would.

“It was really hard to get these flowers in the middle of winter.”

She exhaled quick and sharp, only to inhale the air right back. “Oh no, you didn’t…”

“I kinda did?” Taichi replied and Sora could hear both the excitement as the worry in his voice. “Please don’t hate me…” He lowered the bouquet.

She had felt every emotion these past twelve hours. She had been plain mad and worried and desperate, both separately as all at once. But now, all she felt was relieve and sheer love for her Taichi standing in front of her.

“How could I?” Sora said, longing in her eyes.

“Well, I thought you’d be more excited and— ouch!”

She slapped his arm first. Then threw herself onto him, wrapping her arms around his neck while her lips found his as if they had never done anything else in life.

“Excited enough for you?” Sora asked as she parted her lips from Taichi, locking her eyes with his and staring deeply into them.

The lopsided grin on his face said it all.

x X x X x

Bonus time! (They have just watched the PowerPoint about Sunflowers made by Koushiro)

She grabbed the hem of his sleeve and stretched it out over his hand.

“What are you doing?” He asked, his eyes shifting from Sora to his sleeve and back to Sora.

Sora looked at him with a fond smile, not answering his question. She then looked down at her own sleeve and stretched it the same way she had stretched Taichi’s. Carefully she tied the two ends together into en tight knot.

“There,” she said, “forever.”

[creatingnikki]

December 2023

The strawberries are here and the red decor too and now Christmas songs have started to play in cafés.

I want to reflect on this year and "wrap it up" so that when I look back at it, at 2023, at being 26, I have a narrative that feels comprehensive. But a narrative for whom? Myself mostly. But also for those I meet. I'm a storyteller. I like narrating everything. Like I'd probably tell that story about that spontaneous 2:30 am drive out the city in late February or the time I almost booked a flight to Chennai or that April night at the rooftop that felt out of smut booktok would obsess over or that midnight in late July when I felt at peace in the arms of a man for the first time. Would I want to tell them about that September evening at the beach holding a white rose and crying like my heart had floated away never to return? I do not know.

How to look back at these 11 months and counting? I don't feel arrogant enough like when I was younger to make lists that sound poetic and profound about my year and the things I learned when now I know the lessons keep repeating, that this is life of mine is very Sisyphean.

Nor do I feel like I want to be harsh on myself and marinate in feelings of incompentency and regret over wasted time and unmet goals and murdered dreams.

I am excited for 2024 but equally scared. But I'm not there yet. I cannot focus on 2024 until I feel like I've said my farewell to 2023. Time may be an illusion but it is my favourite tool to process life. One year ago this time, three years from now, when I was nineteen, when I turn thirty eight...I like to think in terms of time. It doesn't shackle me, it serves me.

December. What do we do with you this time? I'll eat the strawberries and I'll go to the parties and I'll try to find gratitude and reflect over things. But if I only mostly catch up on sleep and enjoy the cool breeze, will you let me proceed?